


and the whole world is empty

by dreamer_of_dreams



Series: Even and Isak Sharing Fears [4]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Getting Back Together, Healing, I promise you happy ending okay?, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Oblivious, Pining, Sad with a Happy Ending, but first angst...like lots of it. I'm sorry, even has a fear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamer_of_dreams/pseuds/dreamer_of_dreams
Summary: The conversations were always stilted and quiet and benignly untrue.“I’m okay”“No worries”“My day was alright, you?”“Yeah, I ate”“I should go. I’m sleepy…”The phone calls eventually petered out.So, Even did what he thought was right for Isak.On an ordinary Thursday, eating dinner next to each other on the couch, Even looked up from his bowl of noodles, glanced at the clock ticking 9.21 pm and said, “I think we should break up.”





	1. ends with a whisper

_A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty._  
_― Joan Didion_

And then it happened. The worst fear of them all, buried deep beneath all other secrets and whispers they don’t share at night. They drifted apart, slowly and without notice. They ran out of ways to love each other. From the outside, it was hard to perceive the cracks. It didn't start with fights or arguments. No incessant naggings or hurtful remarks. They still ate breakfast and dinner together. They still kissed each other good night. It was a quiet, insidious rebellion filled with silence and too much space. It happened the way it did for everyone else. Nothing special. Just taking things for granted.  
  
First, it was fatigue. Home after long days of work and classes, they just needed the space to exist in each other’s company without too many words. Eventually, fatigue became an excuse for silence. Isak did not talk the way he used to and Even wanted to believe it’s only because Isak was never the sort to talk as much, to begin with. So, he became hesitant to fill in the gaps with meaningless gabble; he was afraid to hear only his voice echoing through the night. Didn't want to irk Isak. What he didn’t realise then was that loving someone is a habit. It’s work. It’s day in and day out. Repetition like every other god forsaken thing you do. And if they kept their mouths shut long enough, it would be easy to get comfortable in their aloneness. Comfortable enough to be unable to discern aloneness from loneliness.

Even doubts Isak felt it as much as he did, because Isak was going to therapy, getting help. He even made a couple of new friends in his senior year, boys from Elvebakken whom Even did not recognise. So, whenever Isak felt the need to talk, he had more than one person to go to. Somewhere along the line, Even wasn’t the first person to hear about the daily happenings. If Isak walked down the street and saw a humorous sign, Even wasn’t the guy who got the text message with a picture and a funny caption attached. He'd hear about it a lot later over a bowling session with Isak's new friends when they laughed about it, an inside joke. He didn't understand what shifted between them that left him peeking into Isak's life like a mere acquaintance. If Isak heard a fun fact in his biology class, he didn’t think to share it with Even because why would he? Even wasn’t into biology or animals or a hundred other things that Isak loves to talk about with his friends. The longing got so bad that he refused to socialise with Isak's friends anymore.

Of course, it was Even’s fault. Instead of having an adult conversation with Isak about the queasy feeling he had in his gut, he lashed out. Got irritated whenever Isak went to a party. Picked a fight over stupid things like Isak leaving his dirty dishes in the sink or socks next to the bed. It never bothered him before, but he pushed because he needed Isak to pull back. And when he didn't, Even kept pushing because he didn't know any better. He told Isak to go away when he was spiralling into another depressive episode. He stayed with his parents for an entire month. Isak came over like he used to, stayed with him for a week but when Even told him he didn’t need the help, Isak didn’t argue. He just nodded, brushed Even’s hair from his face, kissed him on his forehead and left. Even spent the whole day, sinking into the dent Isak made on the other side of his childhood bed, wondering how they turned out like this. It was all polite familiarity, like how Even behaved around his colleagues.

It is true that Isak used to text daily to check on him, called him once every two days. He didn't entirely abandon Even. But the conversations were always stilted and quiet and benignly untrue.  
  
“ _I’m okay”_

_“No worries”_

_“_ _My day was alright, you?”_

_“Yeah, I ate”_

_“_ _I should go. I’m sleepy…”_

The phone calls eventually petered out. Even figured being gone for a month would wake Isak to the harsh reality of their dwindling capacities to love, but it didn’t. 

Because when Even returned home, Isak just hugged him, asked if he were okay, and accepted the easy answer that Even provided for his partner's sake, “I’m much better, thanks.” 

So, Even did what he thought was right for Isak.

On an ordinary Thursday, eating dinner next to each other on the couch, Even looked up from his bowl of noodles, glanced at the clock ticking 9.21 pm and said, “I think we should break up.”

In the reverberating silence that followed, Even stared at his noodles, unwilling to see the look on Isak’s face. He was terrified that he’d see relief instead of grief. He twirled his fork over and over, scratching the bottom of his bowl, hoping that he’d hear Isak protest, rage, demand answers at least. But what he heard, he could never again separate from the distinct feeling of having his innards clawed out of his body, out of breath and solutions.  

“Okay,” whispered Isak.


	2. we try to keep the dead alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor is a little more complicated. He has had a huge crush on Even for the past year or so. He constantly tries to please Even, to get his attention. And Even can’t lie, Taylor is attractive. He is all lean muscle, blonde hair and bright blue eyes, sharp jawline and cheekbones, just the right height that he can tuck himself beneath Even’s chin and when he lies on his front, he has two cute dips on his lower back right above the curve of his butt. Even knows this because he has seen it for himself.

_Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift._

_— Mary Oliver_

***** Two years later*****

“The transition is too abrupt. 12:18, the music just cuts off,” says Even.

“But that’s the point! We want to make it disconcerting for the audience. We talked about this.”

“What seems disconcerting, Tay, is the lack of finesse in editing.”

Even high fives Rahima playfully, but holds in his remark when he notices Taylor sulking at the screen.

“Listen, let’s grab a cup of coffee, eat something, then we’ll get back to this, okay? We have been editing for three hours now and—“

“Four and a half,” Taylor interrupts. “Four and a half fucking hours because I started before you two even showed up. But sure, tell me how much it sucks.”

Rahima merely raises her eyebrows at Even, indicating that she is not dealing with Taylor today and Even sighs.

“We’re sorry. Tay, leave it. Drinks on me,” Even says in a placating manner.

“Riiiight. You two go do that, I’m going home. I need sleep. Some of us worked really hard on this film too, but we don’t whine about our contributions. Just saying,” Rahima says with a sweet smile; her comment undercutting her pleasant tone.

Moments like these, when Rahima pushes her scarf over her shoulder to pick up her bag, Even is transported back to the times he has seen Sana do the same. It hits him in the gut and he feels bittersweet, thinking about everyone back at home. Sana, Elias, Mikael, Yousef... Jonas, Mahdi… everyone. He misses everyone.

But he does enjoy his stay in London. He loves studying Filmmaking; it's a dream come true. Running away to London was the only saviour he had when he resurfaced from a world that suddenly and with an obliterating violence, ripped him away from purpose and people. It kept him alive when nothing made sense. The triviality of a new life here sustained him on a day to day basis. Minute by minute. 

_If I died today, I won't make it to Dr. Hodkinson's lesson on Film History tomorrow, and that must be awfully interesting._

_I can't jump off the building today because I want to go for an evening walk and take pictures of buildings. I can die later, there's time._

_Isak didn't love me because I didn't know fun facts about animals. So, I have to live long enough to go to the Natural History Museum with Alex next week._

_I'm boring. If I killed myself now, Isak will think it's best that he left me. I can't die until I've done more interesting things. A film or two, maybe._

It's stupid and probably isn't the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was all that helped. No amount of "think about your parents, think about your friends, how would they feel if you died? Don't you love them?" made him want to live. But narrowing down his focus on one small thing after the other and postponing death as opposed to trying to quit his suicidal thoughts cold turkey, have been more fruitful. After all, it's a sort of addiction too. 

Also, it helps that his friends here are different. They don’t know much about his past and that helps him feel more normal around them. His medications are finally well-adjusted and he has learnt better control over his manic episodes. Rahima knows that he is bipolar but she is unfazed by it. Doesn’t treat him like a cracked ceramic, doesn’t insist on being there for him at all times. He used to think that not having someone constantly there with him would make him lonely. But there’s a sense of freedom and empowerment that comes from being allowed to take care of himself. He knows she’d be there if he needed her, but she never offers. Their relationship is founded upon an unspoken mutual understanding of each other’s needs.

Taylor is a little more complicated. He has had a huge crush on Even for the past year or so. He constantly tries to please Even, to get his attention. And Even can’t lie, Taylor is attractive. He is all lean muscle, blonde hair and bright blue eyes, sharp jawline and cheekbones, just the right height that he can tuck himself beneath Even’s chin and when he lies on his front, he has two cute dips on his lower back right above the curve of his butt. Even knows this because he has seen it for himself.

He remembers vaguely the one night almost nine months ago when he was so drunk that he had let Taylor bring him back to his place. Remembers running his tongue over the dips. Remembers sucking a bruise below his right jaw. Remembers waking up to Taylor tucked beneath his chin, legs splayed over Even’s and with his arm around Even’s waist. Even woke up to the soft hair against his mouth and for a second, imagined that Taylor was a boy that he used to know, that he used to wake up to. He had placed a loving kiss on the crown of his head. But as the fog of sleep was rudely dismissed by the bludgeoning hangover, he had noticed with a stab in his gut that the hair that he had twisted gently around his fingers was straight. It didn’t curl around his fingers, didn’t bounce when he released. It didn’t belong to the boy he still dreamt of some nights. He had woken with a start, pulled his body away from Taylor’s, pulled on his pants and shirt haphazardly and stormed out with a nausea that lasted him far longer than a hangover.

It took him a month, countless apologies and strict boundaries before their friendship resumed its usual course. After all, they study together. He didn’t want to ruin his space and the sense of peace that he had built in the class. However, the past two months had been even more awkward, what with his Cinematography professor, Dr Charles Haze, setting a permanent list of groups on the first day of class. Rahima, Taylor, Even and Nidhi would have to spend four months together on three different projects.

But this project has been particularly taxing because Nidhi had to return to her country for a short while. Her mother had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. Even wasn’t particularly close to her. Didn't know if he should text her to comfort her. So, he decided to finish the project on her behalf. But she is by far the most talented at editing. She even composes music for their works. Thanks to her, their group was nominated for Best Original Score in the upcoming Inter-University Film Competition. Without her, it has been hard to figure out how to edit the horror film that they shot without making it tacky.

So, Even is still very diplomatic with Taylor, despite the other boy’s many advances towards him. He can’t lie, he does like the attention a little bit. He is a lot more open with his pansexuality in London, especially in his university where diversity is more than encouraged. No one bats an eye when he wears his pansexual pride brooch on his denim jacket. Sometimes, it’s nice to be hit on, to see Taylor’s cheeks blush when Even innocently strips his jacket in the heat of the coffee shop and adjusts his t-shirt collar. It’s nice to have someone fawning over his doodles on the side of the coffee cup or on the napkin. Someone who asks if he could keep it as a gift. Even has a gut feeling that Taylor texts _him_ funny details of his day before anyone else. That Taylor wants to talk to Even, even when he has nothing interesting to say. It's nice to be wanted. He imagined that's what he wished for years ago. 

It’s nice, sure. But it has never been enough to make him want to try again. He swallows the hot coffee alongside his regrets, and smiles when Taylor shows him a picture of a typo on a billboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about filmmaking. I'm basing this on the short course that I took on Lit, Media and Film. Sorry if there are inaccuracies.


	3. and here you stand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I ask you ‘What happens after I’ve saved you?’ and then you answer… ‘I’ll save you right back.’ It would be so fucking funny! It’s actually one of my dreams. One of my dreams,” Even said, sure of himself.
> 
> There is something to say about such innocent assurance.

_Leaving is not enough;_   
_you must stay gone._   
_Train your heart like a dog._   
_Change the locks_   
_even on the house he’s never visited..._   
_You loved a man_   
_with more hands than a parade_   
_of beggars, and here you stand._

_\- Marty McConnell_   
  


Even wakes up to the intro to Nas’ “Get Down.” He groans when he checks the time on his phone and the name of the caller. It’s 7:02 am on a Sunday and he is pretty certain his day is about to start with some ass-whooping. He silences his phone, puts a pillow over his head and goes back to sleep.

By the time he wakes up of his own volition, his phone indicates 10:45 am and he has 3 missed calls and a text message, all from Sana. He opens the text first.

_Sana: If you don’t pick up the phone or call me back today, consider us done. I’m not playing this bullshit game with you, Even._

Even knows exactly what this is about. Either Yousef or Elias (most likely both) must have told Sana the outcome of their conversation a couple of days ago. He contemplates ignoring the message and see how far it gets him but the thought of Sana no longer talking to him scares Even into replying the text.

_Even: Sorry, I was asleep._

He puts his phone down and goes to take a shower, dreading having to repeat the lies he told Yousef and Elias to Sana. She is more persistent than them, and she knows how to pick up his tells.

He returns to another missed call and text message from Sana.

_Sana:  PICK UP! We’re not having this conversation through text._

Even sighs deeply, presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose as he redials her number.

_Hello._

**_Hey, Sana. Sorry, I—_ **

_You're not coming to my wedding?_

Even sighs again. This is difficult. He wants to, he so badly wants to but he doesn’t think he could.

_Even? Are you coming or not?_

**_No. I’m sorry. I don’t have the money to travel back home._ **

_Well, you don’t need the money. Yousef and the boys are paying for your flight ticket. I’m booking it online today. Are you coming then?_

This is what he feared. She knows when he lies and she also knows how to twist his arm into admitting to it.

**_I can’t accept that kind of favour, Sana. You must all be spending so much on the wedding. I can’t impose on—_ **

_Even._

Her tone of voice has a sense of finality, a warning. 'Enough' is what it means. 'Stop lying.'

**_It’s not the money._ **

_Yeah, I’m not stupid._

**_I can’t…_ **

_Why not?_

**_You know why._ **

_He knows you’re coming and he is okay with it. He doesn’t seem upset. Listen, maybe it’s time to be friends again. He cares about you, you know that._

I don't know that actually, he thinks but doesn't say. Instead he replies, ** _I doubt we can ever be friends._**

_Not with that attitude, no._

When he doesn’t reply, she sighs and continues.

_Even, you’re a groomsman. The ceremony won’t be complete without you. Yousef needs you here. Elias, Mikael, Muta, Adam, they’re all planning a party for you. This is important to me and Yousef. Please show up? Even if it’s just for the wedding._

Even doesn’t know what to say so he closes his eyes, breathes through his nose, and waits. Waits for an answer to drop from the sky, a revelation, an inner strength to emerge so he can confidently say, “Yes, Sana. Of course I’ll be there.” It doesn’t.

_You can’t run away forever, Even. You know better._

Sana’s voice is soft yet stern as though she hears his hesitation loud and clear. He is so tempted to say, Yes I can, Sana. And I will. I don't plan on coming back. But it sounds petulant and childish. He does know better.

**_Fine. I’ll be there. Not for long but for the wedding._ **

When she passes the phone over to the boys, he hears Mikael scream FUCK YES and Yousef thank him repeatedly. Elias tells him about this girl at his work, how he plans to ask her out for the wedding, his plus one. Muta makes dumb jokes about it. He listens to the sound of a life that he once had, pregnant with laughter and love. He wonders if he will ever truly feel like he belongs again. But when the boys shout that they love him in unison before hanging up, he smiles and deceives himself into thinking that he will be alright. 

 *****

That delusion lasts for exactly four hours before Even starts freaking out again. He loves Yousef and Sana. Yousef and Elias are his best friends; they practically grew up in the latter's house. Sana is family to him. And he is beyond delighted that they finally convinced Sana’s parents to accept Yousef into their family despite their religious differences. In fact, Even felt accountable for the longest time when Yousef’s atheism was the reason behind the disapproval of Sana’s parents. He knew that Yousef had lost conviction in religion because of Even’s suicide attempt. They had that talk years ago over dinner at a steakhouse after going out for a movie.

Even, knowing that Yousef did not drink alcohol, had decided to forego beer when Yousef said, “Go ahead, bro. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t drink,” Even replied.

“I don’t but you can.”

“Just out of curiosity...” Even started and stared at Yousef until he received a nod to continue. “I was just thinking, you said you no longer believe in Allah. But you still follow all these… rules?”

“I don’t do it because I believe in Allah. I do it because some teachings are for good. I have lived without alcohol so far, don’t need it to have fun, know what I mean?”

Even nodded. “What made you stop believing though?”

Yousef instantly looked away and Even understood that it was not a topic he felt comfortable talking about.

“We don’t have to do this,” Even said quickly. “Sorry, I intruded.”

“No, it’s fine… It’s just—I don’t know. When I heard about you, I couldn’t—it didn’t feel right.”

Even, utterly confused yet feeling a blooming dread in his chest, just raised both his eyebrows and uttered softly, “What? What about me?”

Yousef sighed deeply as though he hadn’t been able to breathe since this conversation started. But Even was too curious to let it go then.

“When you didn’t answer your calls-- after the whole Mikael thing? I showed up to your house with Elias. Sonja answered the door, told us about—about…” he stuttered, gesturing wildly.

Even nodded knowingly to ease him into the conversation.

“I didn’t want to believe in a God, in anything really, that made you feel like that… that _lonely_. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve to feel like that. You’re my friend, my brother. And you’re good. If you didn’t feel like you should live because of who you are, because of hell or heaven or whatever in between, I just—I can’t. I refuse to invest in that. I can’t tell if God exists, but I know _you_ do. And that’s more important to me. And… if-- if God exists, he’d understand.”

Yousef’s voice cracked as he glanced away to the side as though he was waiting to call the waiter although they had already ordered their food. Even spent a few minutes, fighting back tears. If Yousef noticed, he said nothing.

After that dinner, when he dropped Yousef at his parents’ place, Even said, “Thank you. For dinner, and all.”

Yousef seemed to get what he meant because he just leaned over and hugged him wordlessly for a beat or two before getting off the car. He waved goodbye from his doorstep with a big, warm smile plastered on his face. That moment had been etched into Even’s mind forever.

Every time he hears about another one of Sana’s close calls, nearly getting caught by her parents (she kept their relationship a secret from them which gnawed at her for years), Even felt a stab of guilt. Yousef was a good Muslim when he was one. It was only because of Even’s crazy stint with the Quran and self-condemnation that Yousef had lost faith in his religion. If it weren’t for Even, neither Sana nor Yousef would have had such a hard time being together.

So, when Yousef, Elias and Sana finally convinced the Bakkoush family into giving Yousef their blessings nearly six months ago, Even felt a rush of relief. He hadn’t realised how remorseful he had felt until he was exempted from it. Sana was glowing with mirth in the picture that Elias sent in the group chat after the formal dinner at Bakkoush’ house. Yousef had considered him to be important enough to call him on that very day and appoint him as a groomsman for a wedding that they had yet to plan even though he lived so far away.

But the boys’ squad was anxious about Even’s lack of commitment to the event. Elias had called him a number of times, Mikael has been bugging him over text on top of the relentless requests from Yousef and eventually, they had turned to Sana to whip him into shape. There is less than two months now before the big day. He is happy. So very happy for them, no doubt.

Which is also the very reason for his new form of guilt. He is envious of them. They had only gotten together nearly a year after Even and Isak. Their problems seemed much bigger and unsolvable than the turmoil in Even’s relationship. Yet, they made it through. He had imagined that he would sooner be married to Isak than anyone else in his group of friends. Had been so sure of it.

He recalls laughingly admonishing Isak, “You don’t think we’re getting married? We are so fucking getting married. Huge, fucking wedding! And we’ll show up as God and Julius Cæsar. No, as..just completely butt naked! Completely naked, no clothes! From now on we should only do things while naked. And I’m gonna propose to you from a balcony. Just picture me driving up to you in a white, limousine Tesla yelling “Princess Vivian!”

“Princess Vivian?” Isak had asked.

“And it would be so awesome if you answered that! Like, the whole joke is that you’d think is a Romeo and Juliet reference, but you don’t get that until you enter the balcony and then you see me sitting there naked, with a tie on, and then you get the reference! And after I’ve climbed up to the balcony, I ask you ‘What happens after I’ve saved you?’ and then you answer… ‘I’ll save you right back.’ It would be so fucking funny! It’s actually one of my dreams. One of my dreams,” Even said, sure of himself.

There is something to say about such innocent assurance. While that day hadn’t exactly turned out to be the most pleasant, what with his manic episode and having to deal with the fallout, it is also a memory of a past when he had loved someone with his deepest certitude and felt that love returned. Despite the turbulence that he had expected, that he had brought upon himself for hiding his disorder, they had made it through. Even thought that if they could live through that period of sorrow and confusion, their love would survive everything else. It's morbidly funny that what broke them in the end was monotony, the silence that grew out of their complacence, large enough to swallow memories of better days.

Even had been ignoring phone calls and making excuses to not attend the wedding because he didn’t want to see Isak. There is no avoiding him; Isak is Sana’s best friend. It would be unfair and impossible to make them choose between Even and Isak. And he would never do that to his friends or Isak for that matter. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Years without Isak has taught him to live by himself, but it has yet to teach him to live _with_ himself.  

Now he has foolishly agreed to attend the wedding. He had let Sana talk him into making yet another mistake. Unlike the movies that Even lives by, there are some things in life that you can never save. The remnants of his friendship with Isak is irremediable like that. He hates to even think about it, but the days after the break up, the days spent packing their items, separating them into boxes, carding through and compartmentalising the ruins of a life together, had taken many months and therapy sessions and alcohol and shitty nights and regretful mistakes for Even to put behind him. A part of him is still resentful; Isak hadn’t said a word after the break up except to ask him if a book, a sweater or a scarf belonged to him. Even never forgave him for that, for not fighting back. Isak waited for the end and embraced it with arms wide open when Even offered him a way out. There is no fixing an ending like theirs.

Even, feeling himself growing more anxious and angry as he ponders upon Isak, picks up his phone, scrolls through the phone book and looks for a familiar number. His gut tells him that this is another one of his awful slip-ups but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He hits dial with a forceful finger and clutches the phone to his ear.

“Hello. Even? ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far. Please let me know what you think. Your comments give me ideas and keep me going. :)


	4. as if he were his own ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You should slow down, man. It’s like the alcohol personally offended you or something,” Taylor says with a frown.
> 
> He lets out a loud bark of laughter not because he found Taylor funny, but because he is so much like Isak but not at all. Isak would have said “we” should slow down. It’s a thing he does, when he tries not to rub Even the wrong way.
> 
> "We should both slow down, baby," he’d say, despite holding the same can of beer he has been sipping from for the past hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has references to another short fic from the same series, Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558772. You may choose to read it before or after this chapter but I think reading it would add depth to their relationship. (May also hint as to why Even is so bothered by Isak's silence).

 

> _Isak: I'm sure that in a parallel universe there's an Isak and an Even who's lying in the exact same way in the exact same place, only, like... the curtains are of a different color or something..._
> 
> _Even: Yeah, but I'm just starting to feel so... I don't know, lonely. No, I don't like it, man. It freaks me out. It's your head. It's you and your head... and all of your thoughts. "The Mind is Alone" feeling. Because the only thing that exists is you and your thoughts, right? You can't escape from your own thoughts. The only way to do that is to die._
> 
> _\- Skam,_ 3X05

  
  
  
Hello. Even?

 ** _Tay…_** Even regrets calling the very second he hears Taylor’s voice. **_Uhmm… Wanna hang out?_**

_Your place or my place?_

Even considers the options for a second and chooses a safer one.

**_No parties anywhere? I’d like to get pissed drunk._ **

_I have alcohol in my apartment._

**_I…_ **

_Joking, joking. Hmm... Let me see. It’s Wednesday. Rotella has a discounted sesh from 7 to 9._

**_Yeah okay, that works._ **

_Shall I pick you up?_

**_Nah, see you there?_ **

_Aight._

 

After putting down the phone, he works on his film quietly for a couple of hours, all the while chanting in his head, ‘It’s not a shitty idea. He’s my friend. This is being friends. It’s fine. It’s alright.’

6.45 pm and he is yet to fully reassure himself that this will not backfire and ruin their friendship. He knows where his heart’s at but he can’t say the same for Taylor. He doesn't want to end up inebriated in bed with Taylor again. It's not fair to Taylor. But at this moment, he is more than a little selfish.

It’s only when he sees Taylor getting out of his car, looking at his side view mirror to adjust his hair and walk towards Even with a smile on his face that guilt lodges in his throat again. But Lady Luck is on his side. A number of people from his campus are also in Rotella for the same reason and he immediately drags Taylor to join them as a gang, although Taylor looks disgruntled by the change in company.

After an hour, he has gulped so many beers, a couple of whiskey shots, gin and tonic that he knows he is a mess judging by the fact that he is leaning across the counter, grinning like an idiot at the bartender, calling him the very best. But it doesn’t stop him from throwing money down the table for more drinks.

He gets another bottle of beer and turns around just to have Taylor snatch it from him. It vividly reminds him of Isak doing the same in Chris' party years ago. He remembers the conversation before Isak lost his temper:

_“Are you really gonna be that kind of boyfriend now?”_

_“What kind? The kind that gives a shit?” Isak answered._

_“The kind who thinks he owns me just cause we’re together.”_

_“Well, maybe if you don’t stop being such an asshole right now, we wouldn’t be together all that long.”_

It was a hurtful day for the both of them. They said things that they didn’t mean when what they meant to say was that they wanted to take care of each other. Sometimes, that requires taking away the bottle of beer before it turns into poison. In spite of Isak’s temper, Even instinctively knew then that it wasn’t the end for them. That they would fix this together when they were calm enough. Because that was Isak as a person. He sometimes did not have the right words in the right order, but his heart was at the right place. He shouted, he cussed but that’s only because he has fought tooth and nail all his life to keep what matters to him close and safe.

If Isak had reacted in anger when they broke up, Even would have had hope. He was well-acquainted with the recurring pattern in their relationship. He’d come home after a fight and Isak would hug him, tell him he loves Even repeatedly, ask him to stay in bed and hold him.

But he was quiet the last time Even was with him. _Okay,_ he said. Like the million times Even has asked him to pick up bread or laundry or condom on the way home after class. _Okay._ Such a simple, mundane affirmation for such an earth-shattering, painful moment.

“You should slow down, man. It’s like the alcohol personally offended you or something,” Taylor says with a frown.

He lets out a loud bark of laughter not because he found Taylor funny, but because he is so much like Isak but not at all. Isak would have said “we” should slow down. It’s a thing he does, when he tries not to rub Even the wrong way.

 _We should both slow down, baby_ , he’d say, despite holding the same can of beer he has been sipping from for the past hour. **_We_** meant _I’m with you, you’re not doing this alone_. **_We_** meant _I understand your needs but I also care about you._ _In the long run, this will not work out for us._ **_We_** as in _you’ve got me, Even. I love you_ **.** **_Okay_** just meant _thank God, **we** are over. _

“Fuck off,” Even says lightly and grabs the bottle back.

Is it weird that he wishes Taylor would yank the bottle out of his hand the way Isak would, all red in anger? Is it weird he wishes he could kiss that very anger out of him? That he still had the prerogative to lean in close and hug Isak through his onslaught of emotions?

“What the hell is up with you today?” Taylor asks in concern.

Even drags a long sip from the bottle and sits shakily on the bar stool, unwilling to converse.

“I’m bringing you back home. The night is over for you,” Taylor mutters, pulling his arm.

“If I needed a mother, I’d call you. Now fuck off.”

“Well, stop acting like a child then,” Taylor says through clenched teeth as he tries to pull Even up with all his weight.

“Why don’t you go mind someone who is actually into you?” Even lashes out. “See, that guy over there... He seems interested. Move along.”

“What the fuck is up with you?! Jesus, have you always been such an asshole?”

“Parallel universe,” Even mutters before finishing half the bottle in one long sip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has references to another short fic from the same series, Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558772. You may choose to read it before or after this chapter but I think reading it would add depth to their relationship. (May also hint as to why Even is so bothered by Isak's silence).


	5. meanwhile the world goes on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All this time, nobody mentions Isak to him. And he honestly can’t tell who they are protecting. Are they looking after him, so as to not remind him of his past? Or are they maintaining Isak’s privacy because Isak does not feel comfortable with Even knowing about his life? Has Isak booked a plus one for the wedding? Unlike him, does Isak actually have a date? Someone he has been with? Even has no idea.

_Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine._

_\- Mary Oliver_

  
Even wakes up in a comfortable bed that smells like his mother’s lavender detergent. His first thought is that he is back home with his parents in his childhood bed. Did he return to Oslo already? Yousef's wedding! This terrified him into jolting up and opening his eyes wide despite the pulsing headache. But it doesn’t look like his room. It has a cosy décor with a book shelf in one corner, an antique gramophone resting on it and an armchair with a knitted blanket. The curtains were maroon and closed against the sunlight, God bless whoever's soul. He groans and falls back on the bed, pressing his palms to his eyes. Did he go home with someone? Another stupid one night stand? This isn’t Taylor’s place, that much he knows.

He looks under the blanket and finds himself fully clothed. Just as he is about to freak out, he hears a soft knock on the door, a quiet, female voice calling him. He rummages through his mind for a list of female friends he hung out with at the bar. He'd much rather deal with the fallout of sleeping with a complete stranger than any of those people from his campus. 

“Yes?” he answers, though his throat feels like sandpaper and sea salt.

The lady opens the door and he first sees her blue scarf before he makes out the facial features in the dim room.

“Rahima!” Even exclaims.

“Who else, idiot?” she asks playfully.

“How did I--?”

“Taylor called last night. Said he couldn’t deal with drunk you. Asked if I could drive you home.”

Even looks away, embarrassed and utters, “Oh. Sorry…” He drinks the water from the big glass she places on the bed side table and shrugs. “I should get going then, sorry.”

“Nah, my housemates are away. Stay, I made breakfast.”

Even slowly shuffles out of bed as she directs him to the bathroom, hands him a towel. He looks crappy in the mirror, eyes almost swollen shut, lips cracked and hair greasy in an unclean way. He showers under the hot spray and feels so much better than a minute ago. He feels a little disgusted to wear his shirt again, it smelled like sweat and booze. So, he steps out of the shower, wearing only his jeans, and wraps the towel around his upper body. Rahima had left a sweatshirt with the university insignia on the bed. It’s over-sized for her, so he could fit in it but the length is still too short for his height. He doesn’t think she’d mind, so he wears that and peeps out of the room. When he hears the murmuring of music, he follows the sound and lingers at the archway to the kitchen, hesitant to intrude. She gestures him to take a seat on the stool slid underneath the counter and places steaming hot cup of coffee and a plate with baked beans and toast.

“Sorry, ran out of eggs and chicken sausages,” she says as she sits across from him with her plate of food.

“This is enough. Thank you,” Even says, slowly munching on the toast, so as to not jostle his head in a way that worsens the headache.

“Is it a good idea to be drinking alcohol? With your meds and all?” Rahima asks, looking at him.

He stares at her for a beat; she does not seem to have any qualms being direct with him. He doesn’t see condescension in her look, just plain curiosity.

“No. Not a good idea,” he replies softly, scraping the beans using his fork.

“Hmmm…” she says, chewing the toast before continuing, “What did you say to Taylor? He didn’t look happy.”

Even just closes his eyes and presses the thumb side of his palm against his forehead.

“Alright. That’s your problem to fix,” Rahima says, as though she doesn’t wish to pry any longer.

“Why didn’t you just call me a cab and send me to my place last night?” Even asks. “You didn't have to bring me here.”

“I didn’t. I drove you home, you took one look at your apartment and said you didn’t want to be alone. And I wasn’t going to stay at your crappy dorm room so I brought you here instead.”

Even considers running across the living room and throwing himself off the balcony very briefly. Could this day get any more embarrassing? He just sighs and sinks into himself.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters under his breath.

“All is forgiven granted you tell me what happened,” Rahima replies, sticking her fork in his beans and nudging his foot with hers.

“Nothing happened. I just got drunk.”

“Yes but you don’t usually. I’ve only seen you drunk twice, yesterday included. So, why?”

“Just felt like it.”

“Why?”

Even groans and drags the coffee mug across the table.

Rahima laughs a little. “Fine. If you ever want to talk, the offer is still on the table.”

He nudges her foot in gratitude and they sip their coffee in silence.

*****

On Tuesday, Even spends three hours on his bed, finishing up the essay for the class that he missed the day before thanks to his untimely, awful decision. He is so engrossed in it that when Sana calls, he turns off his phone and continues typing away.

He calls her back at night, once he has edited and submitted his essay and listens to her nag him about turning off the phone on her for a few minutes.

Then, she asks hesitantly, “So… I called to ask, are we expecting a guest from your end?”

“Huh?” Even asks with the phone tucked precariously between his left ear and shoulder as he balances potato chips on one hand and the TV remote control on the other.

“Plus one?”

“No. Why?”

Her voice sounds chirpier as she says, “No plus one! Oh okay. Just making sure.”

 “Why? Should I bring a date? Is everyone bringing a date?”

“No, no. I was just asking. To book the flight tickets.”

“I’ll book my own. So, if I plan to bring someone, I’ll book for them too. No worries.”

“No, you should tell me!” Sana exclaims.

 She hastily adds, “I mean, I also need to know for catering and seat placements and stuff. RSVP, you know?”

“Okaaay… You know what? Just add a plus one, just in case.”

“Aah… so you have someone in mind? Would they be willing to travel all the way from London?” she asks tentatively.

“I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.”

“So, you’re bringing someone!” she declares loudly again.

They talk a little longer about their general health and well-being and he puts down the phone. He didn’t think to bring anyone for the wedding but it seems like he is expected to? He can’t tell. The whole conversation was awkward in a way that it usually isn’t. He tries to think of anyone he’d like to bring and can’t think of any. His parents are attending the wedding with or without him. Maybe he’ll ask Sonja? She’d probably be there too with her own guest. He finds himself getting moody just thinking about it, shoves a mouthful of potato chips and tries to focus on the TV show instead.

*****

Even’s phone pings in the public restroom as he dries his hand. He pulls it out of his pocket to see a notification from Facebook.

_Mutasim Tatouti likes your picture on Facebook._

He clicks on the notification and it is an image of him with Alex; she has climbed on his back as he poses like the velociraptor outside of the Natural History Museum. Even sighs in annoyance. For the past one month, he has been receiving daily notifications from Facebook and Instagram as his friends "like" pictures of him with anyone at all. They even stalk the comments section.

Ever since he told Sana that there is a possibility of bringing a plus one, the boys have made a bet among themselves to figure out who it could possibly be. They like and tag the squad in the comments section when they suspect a potential date and they discuss the probability in the group chat. They have even changed the name of their group chat to “Sherlock Holmes” with an emoji of a magnifying glass and a pipe.   

Given Even’s pansexuality, they have opened up their sleuthing to all friends that Even either talks about or talks to in social media, which is needless to say, a lot. It was initially funny but one month in, it’s just plain annoying to Even. He opens the group chat and texts:

_Even: Can you guys stop fucking liking my shit?_

_Muta: *poop emoji*_

_Adam: *heart emoji*_

_Elias: the girl’s cute. blue hair!!!_

_Yousef: so cool_

_Mikael: Is that the girl???_

_Mikael: Even???????_

_Mikael: Bro, is she the girl?_

_Mikael: I NEED ANSWERS_

_Even: Get a life, assholes_

He mutes the conversation and walks down the corridor to the bus station. He hates that they have now made this whole situation even more awkward for him. If he shows up without a plus one, it would be more embarrassing than before. Now he’s really starting to freak out about who to ask. For a moment, he even considered hiring someone for the day. It sounds ridiculous, he refuses to stoop so low, but it’s frustrating to deal with this additional pressure.

Just as he worries his bottom lip, thinking about the wedding, a car honks at him from across the road. Rahima rolls down the window and gestures for him to get in. He crosses the road and when she opens the front door saying “Get in, loser”, he climbs awkwardly into her small car, folding his limbs and gives her a quick hug.

“Home?” she asks.

He contemplates for a moment and says, “Unless you’re free? We can grab a drink?”

“Driver chooses the café,” she says with a smile and she drives to her favourite coffee shop.

Halfway through her chocolate milkshake, she asks while licking whipped cream off the straw, “So, what’s up?”

“Huh?”

“You asked to go out. And you’ve been preoccupied with something else. What’s on your mind?”

He sighs and shrugs as he often does when he does not want to get into it. She just shakes her head at him and grabs another fry to dip into her milkshake. With an abrupt thought, he realises how lonely he feels, not having someone to talk to. Sure, his friends are there for him but he doesn’t feel comfortable talking about his feelings to them. They know his past, they know the other person in the equation, and they are probably closer to said person than Even now given that he moved away for two years.

And all this time, nobody mentions Isak to him. And he honestly can’t tell who they are protecting. Are they looking after him, so as to not remind him of his past? Or are they maintaining Isak’s privacy because Isak does not feel comfortable with Even knowing about his life? Has Isak booked a plus one for the wedding? Unlike him, does Isak actually have a date? Someone he has been with? Even has no idea.

It would be an utter lie if he says he hardly thinks about it. It’s all he has had on his mind since he agreed to attend the wedding. But he doesn’t know who to talk to about it without sounding pathetic or sneaky like he wants to pry into Isak’s private life.

Sana is more secretive than the boys. He could probably talk to her and she would not reveal his confessions to anyone. But that is putting her in a tough spot given how close she is to Isak. He has no idea if that has changed over the years but he doesn’t feel comfortable asking.

So, he looks over at Rahima who is currently staring at the menu written on the chalkboard above the counter like she is contemplating more desserts when he clears his throat and starts, “So… there was this boy.”

*****

By the time he finishes his long story, they had ordered more coffee and cake and the sun has gone down. He is oddly proud of himself; he hasn’t cried if he doesn’t count the few times he had to sit quietly to recollect himself.

“It’s pathetic, I know. It has been two years since I left. But when I daydream of a future, he’s there. Not like I’m still expecting that we’ll get together. But when I think of a film I’ll make someday, or an award show, or even my graduation, just random daydreams, I’m still talking to him, showing him what I’ve done. Get what I mean? I don’t know if it’s to impress him or make him envious. I can’t tell. But he’s there. When I first figured out Tay liked me, I considered it for a moment and my brain was like “What would Isak say? Would he approve?” That’s so fucked up but I’m used to doing that. I don’t know how not to. Am I obsessing? Is this just me being crazy--”

“No,” Rahima interrupts resolutely. “It’s not being crazy. It’s just how you’re coping at the moment. I get it.“

“You do?” Even asks sceptically. He doesn’t need Rahima agreeing to everything he says to please him. He needs her to be the rational one.

“Yes, I do. I was in a 5 year relationship. Sure, it wasn’t as dramatic as yours. Neither of us had to suffer all that much to be together. I knew him since 14. Eventually, he wanted to stay with his family, I wanted to study, come to London, be a film maker. Long distance didn’t work for us. He called me one day and said, ‘If someone truly loves you, ideally they’d support your dream. If they can’t, they’d leave you so you could pursue it by yourself. They wouldn't hold you back. Right, Rahi?’ I knew what he meant.”

“What—you just let him break up with you?”

“Yes. What else could I have done?”

“Fight for it? It was a 5 year relationship. If you made it work for so long, couldn’t both of you have found a way around it?”

Rahima snickers, “This isn’t one of your romantic movies, Even. Sometimes, things fall apart. Being away for a year, it was hard. It felt like the right thing to do, to let him go. I wasn’t the only person in the relationship. If he wanted it to end, it would be selfish to hold him hostage just because we were together for long. So, I agreed.”

Even doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels his heart breaking all over again.  She must have seen it on his face because she just extends her hand and pats the back of his.

“We’re both still here, aren’t we?” Rahima says reassuringly.

“Not sure if it’s worth it though.”

“Can’t afford to think like that, Even. You see, when I think of Imran, I focus on what he said. 'If someone truly loves you…' Leaving was a difficult decision but he did it because he loved me and wanted me to feel free. He didn’t want me to come home, throw away my many opportunities here just to get married and be with him like both our parents wanted us to. He knows that would have made us both unhappy in the long run. Maybe that’s part of loving too.”

“I thought that -- that he’d be happier if he weren’t tied down to me. But my brain is too fucked up to just accept it and move on,” Even says, rubbing his hands against his pants as he glances at the slow pour of rain outside the window of the café.

“You’re being too tough on yourself. A love like what you had, it takes time to get past.”

When he doesn’t answer, she asks, “So, the plus one situation? Who are you bringing?”

“No one. That’s the problem. I just kept my options open because it seemed like everyone else would be bringing a date. But now the boys are blowing it out of proportion.”

“Hmmm… what about Taylor? You guys are still friends, right? I saw you talking outside of Block B the other day,” Rahima inquires.

“Yeah, we’re friends. I apologised to him for days after. But there’s no going back to being close enough friends. And I don’t think I want that either.”

“Why? Taylor is a little whiny for my taste but he’s not all that bad. Ever considered dating him for real? Maybe that will get your mind off… other people.”

“Nah. I don’t want to date anyone. I can’t. I just want to get through this wedding,” Even sulks.

As he drains the rest of his coffee, he suddenly exclaims, “I know who to bring!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the wedding chapter soon. Thank you for reading so far. Please share your thoughts with me. :)


	6. despite the pounding in the heart that says: turn back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even doesn’t know what changed and chased away the one good thing he had. He doesn’t even know if Isak still sounds the same when he sings, if he still has a temper and the courage to tell people off, if he holds someone else against his chest now and whispers sweet nothings. And the worst of all, he doesn’t think he’ll find out. That kind of love will never happen again. It’s just settling after this. It’s too tender to last a lifetime. It happens, and then you’re done. You'll spend the rest of your life chasing memories and ideals. That’s it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update. Life's kicking my ass.
> 
> This chapter makes references to another short fic from the same series, Oxygen Masks: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556288/ 
> 
> If you want to see the trip to Morocco from Isak's POV, chapter 2 of the following fic, God, don't leave me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568663/chapters/26007861 provides a glimpse into some of the different date nights that Isak and Even used to plan.
> 
> You may choose to read it before or after this chapter but reading Oxygen Masks would explain Even's fear of flights and Chap 2 of God, Don't Leave Me will add depth to his past relationship with Isak.

_The truth is simple, you do not die from love.  
_ _You only wish you did._  
_― Erica Jong_

 

Even tried. He offered to pay for the trip, offered laundry and cleaning services, money, company if she ever needed to use him as a date to get out of something, a free pass for a group assignment… he begged, he pleaded, he really fucking tried! But if there’s one person who is more strong-headed than a certain boy he once knew, heck, than Sana even, it’s Rahima. She absolutely turned down every one of his bribery.

“I can’t,” she says resolutely for the last time as he calls literally about an hour before leaving the dorm.

“Can’t or won’t?

“Both.”

 “Come on, please. Please. I’m begging here. I’ll do anything.”

“Even, I’ve been saying it for a month and you’re not listening. I don’t have the money—“

“I’ll pay, geez I told you this--”

“And I said no! I am not accepting that kind of favour.”

“I’m asking _you_ for a favour. It’s a payment-in-kind--”

“AND if you were listening, I also repeatedly told you that I am NOT skipping classes for a week and I’m NOT missing the meeting with Dr. Hauser’s guy. I have this one shot to land an internship in CyonFilm production company. I’m not giving that up because you’re too much of a chicken to go see your friends,” Rahima raises her voice.

He can almost imagine the exasperation on her face and it makes him feel like a child.

“I’ll help you catch up? And plan how to reschedule the meeting?” Even asks meekly, still trying his luck.

“I don’t need help-- Listen, Even, I didn’t break up with a man that could possibly be the love of my life and leave my entire family to move to London just to mess around. Skipping classes is one thing. Skipping an interview? No. I need this! It’s all I got to justify what I’ve left behind. Every day I wake up and I go to class and I do well and hopefully someday, I'll wake up and find myself a filmmaker. That’s all I’ve got. I thought you of all people can understand what that’s like, but you’re not listening.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re right. I’m just—yeah…”

“You’re scared,” Rahima says, her voice softer.

“Terrified,” Even replies just as softly.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Have my heart ripped out all over again?”

She scoffs, “Dramatic much?”

Even remains quiet because he doesn’t know how to explain it to her without sounding ridiculous. What he had with Isak, what he lost, it was more than an emotional hurt. It was not even the feeling of his chest caving in, unable to breathe right. It was a mind hurt for a long time. “The mind is alone” feeling. He has spent all these years trying to escape it; he is afraid to fall back into it.

“Maybe you won’t have to meet him?” Rahima asks to fill in the silence. “Maybe you can tell your friends to keep you away?”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” he admits.

He is thankful that she doesn’t comment on the way his voice cracked at the end of that sentence.

He clears his throat, “Hmmm… Okay. Was just trying my luck,” he fakes a small laugh. “See ya when I see ya?”

“Hey, Even?”

“Yeah?”

“You got me, alright? I’m gonna be with you, just like this, over the phone until you come back. You’re not doing this alone. I can’t physically be there with you but I’m calling you every single day and I’ll be here when you get back. And if you get your heart ripped out again, well, you come back and I’ll fix you up.”

This time, he lets out a genuine laugh, “What am I, a teddy bear?”

“Something like that,” Rahima laughs too.

“Who knew you had it in you to be sappy?”

“Shut up. Now go catch your flight. Try to have fun. And call me. I want deets. Everyday. You hear me? Everyday.”

“Alright, alright, I heard. And... love ya, bye.”

“Right back at you,” she replies and puts down the phone.

*****

And that is how he finds himself, hands shaking as he tries to buckle his seat belt, avoiding eye contact with the air hostess who is standing two seats in front of him, helping a passenger with his luggage.

Ever since he got diagnosed with bipolar, he has been in a flight exactly 4 times, this included. The first was the trip to Morocco when he stupidly tried to hide his aversion to flying from Isak and ended up crying all over Isak’s shirt like a stupid baby as he calmed Even down.

_Only because I love you._

It still stings to think of that day, but for different reasons now. He would have rather flown up and down in a dozen trips with Isak if it meant that he still had someone who loved him enough to hold his head against their chest, count his breaths and sing cheesy songs to keep him focused on the sound of their voice.

Panic attacks are fucking awful... and ugly. Really, it’s ugly when you’re gasping and sweating, tears and snot running down your face, hand clutching at your hair like that is the only way you can stop your head from exploding. Isak had seen him during moments like that and still loved him, had stared people down in the airplane when they shushed at him, challenged them to say another word with his menacing glare, and when they inevitably looked away, he’d mutter “Assholes” under his breath, hold Even’s ear close to his beating heart, rock back and forth, and sing and sing and sing. And God, Isak has the sweetest voice when he sings.

Even doesn’t know what changed and chased away the one good thing he had. He doesn’t even know if Isak still sounds the same when he sings, if he still has a temper and the courage to tell people off, if he holds someone else against his chest now and whispers sweet nothings. And the worst of all, he doesn’t think he’ll find out. That kind of love will never happen again. It’s just settling after this with whoever else. A small, rational part of Even knows; a love that tender _cannot_ last a lifetime. It's too consuming. It happens, you live the best days of your life, and then it ends. That’s it. Nothing else to look forward to.  
  
He knew it when he told Isak, curled in the blue bed of his, that it will not work out, that he will only hurt Isak and the younger boy will eventually hate him, and he knew it when he decided to ask Isak to move in with him in the new apartment he had rented. Despite all his optimism about getting married to Isak, he knew that time will catch up with them, even if Isak had told him over and over that they had all the time in the world to live minute by minute. He just didn't think it would end that quickly and that... easily. Like there's no fight left in either of them.  He has had the privilege of experiencing such generous love but the price to pay is equally brutal; it has left him hollowed out and he would have to spend the rest of his life chasing memories to fill in the gaps.

His therapist used to say that he's catastrophising, as though the worst of catastrophes hasn't already occurred. But his dad, in his effort to comfort Even after the break up, said that what counts is how you spend the rest of your life, whether you live in gratitude or anger or grief defines what's left of you. He prefers his dad's input over the therapist's, solely because it doesn't refute his theory that he will never love the same, that something is irreparably broken in him. But he hasn't moved past the grief to be grateful. He wonders what kind of person that makes him. Pathetic? Wretched? Weak?

Even feels cold all over, thinks he might pass out when the air hostess he had been avoiding sidles up next to him and asks, “Sir, are you alright?”

He nods his head erratically and that does nothing to assure her.

“Is this your first time flying?” she asks with a brief touch on his shoulder to keep him upright.

He shakes his head once. No, it isn’t. The last time he flew, it was his trip to London. Both his mum and dad had accompanied him despite his many protests to maintain his dignity as a functional adult. His mum had made him pop a beta blocker and rest his head on her shoulder as she listed down the cities in Norway in an alphabetical order with a tune she made up long ago, the same way she had him memorise them as a child. When he was young, they’d play a game of trivia at the dinner table every night. She’d make a list of everything. Fruits, colours, continents, name of famous painters, uncles, aunties and cousins. And the more he memorised, the more rewards he got - half an hour longer before bedtime, a hug, a new paint brush, an exemption from eating broccoli, an evening dance with his mum when his dad isn’t home... She turned the lists into songs, always the same tune but with different words. Vegetable song, colour song, city song, family song. Between the two of them, they remember a hell of a lot of lists.

When he booked a flight to Oslo, she called him and told him she's willing to fly to London a day or two before and accompany him on the way back since Rahima has turned down his invitation. He protested such coddling and she listed all the reasons why it's a good idea that she accompanies him. And he, in return, listed all the reasons why he would hate himself if she did. She mentioned that she knew he'd say that so she had a back up list of all the possible solutions to ensure a safe ride, top of the list being prescriptive drugs, followed by an appointment with his therapist for two months before the trip to unpack his fear of flying and meditation. And he, despite bristling at her insistence to micromanage him, listed all the reasons why he loves her. Always the same tune, with different words. They're good at lists.  

“Sir… sir, I’m not sure we can allow you to take this flight if you’re not feeling healthy, sir,” the air hostess’ voice penetrates through his hazy thoughts.

He didn’t want to take more pills on top of his anti-psychotic meds, especially after the doctor reminding him that while blood pressure meds are a quick relief for anxiety, they may worsen his depressive condition in the long run.  But he doubts he can make it through this flight without drugs.

“Can you—can you help… pills, red bag—“ he points to the overhead baggage area, “bottom left pocket.”

She unlatches the lock, pushes the suitcases to the side and tries to yank his bag out. The woman in the seat on the other side of the aisle who had been paying attention to their conversation unbuckles her belt, drags down one suitcase to make room to remove his bag. The air hostess gets his pill, passes it over and strides to the back to get water, while the woman helps her rearrange the bags in a way that fits.

When she returns with water, he swallows two beta blockers and hoarsely says, “Thank you” to both of them.

The air hostess looks hesitant to leave but the woman says, “I’m seated right here. I’ll call if he needs help. I think he’ll be fine. Just flight phobia.”

As the air hostess leaves, she buckles her seat belt again and says, “My niece has it too. The pilot said we’re expecting a smooth flight, the weather is clear. No turbulence. Don’t worry.”

It’s not the turbulence. It’s never that. He can handle a rough patch. It’s the take-off and landing that kills him. He doesn’t correct her the same way he didn’t correct Isak all those years ago.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes references to another short fic from the same series, Oxygen Masks: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556288/ 
> 
> If you want to see the trip to Morocco from Isak's POV, chapter 2 of the following fic, God, don't leave me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568663/chapters/26007861 provides a glimpse into some of the different date nights that Isak and Even used to plan.
> 
> You may choose to read it before or after this chapter but reading Oxygen Masks would explain Even's fear of flights and Chap 2 of God, Don't Leave Me will add depth to his past relationship with Isak.


	7. and your heart is a coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were in the midst of a group photo when Even catches a glimpse of Eva and Noora walking up the stage. He waves at them, about to hug Noora when he sees the people standing behind her. Jonas, Vilde, Mahdi, Magnus, Chris… Isak and someone else.
> 
> Isak isn’t even looking at him. Too busy listening to the other guy who’s leaning towards him, muttering close to his ear. Even used to tuck stray curls behind that ear when Isak's hair would pop out of the cap or beanie that he used to wear. His hair is trimmed short now, no curls in sight although still just as golden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening, guys. It's happening. Thank you for reading so far.

Autumn is the hardest season.   
The leaves are all falling like they're falling in love with the ground.   
And the trees are naked and lonely.   
I keep trying to tell them new leaves will come around in the spring,   
but you can't tell trees those things.   
They're like me, they just stand there and don't listen.  
\- Andrea Gibson

 

As Even reaches the arrival hall of Oslo airport, legs feeling boneless and heart throwing a riot still after the landing, he is more than relieved to see his parents rushing towards him with his name on their lips. His mum hugs him tight and he drops the bag to balance them both with a hand against her back. His dad throws his arms around both of them, unwilling to wait for his turn. They must look ridiculous to the rest of the world, huddled against each other like that. But his dad rests his forehead against Even’s temple, just like he used to in the middle of the night whenever he worries about Even's depressive episodes, as though he can soak up his son's affliction and leave behind only weightless thoughts in Even's sleep. Even thinks he doesn’t mind looking silly like that.

His dad asks softly, “I hope it wasn’t too bad?”

He nods. It’s a lie. Taking flights are still as bad. But he figures if he doesn’t act calm, his father will be sitting on the next flight to London, holding his hand and he doesn’t want to burden them like that. So, he lies. He has learnt that sometimes it’s okay to lie if it makes other people feel better.

“I missed you so much,” his mother says with a final squeeze.

“I missed you both too,” Even says, smiling gratefully at them.

Every once in a while, Even has the clarity of mind to count his blessings more than his bruises. And his parents are at the top of that list. He looks past them and is surprised to see the boys, holding a “Welcome home” sign with half a dozen balloons.

His mother smiles a little regretfully and says, “I know you’re probably not in the mood after a flight but I couldn’t stop the boys from coming along.”

“It’s okay, mum. Thanks.”

Even grins at the boys when he sees Mikael half jog towards him, Elias holding the sign above his head in excitement, Muta and Adam fighting over untangling the balloons that are currently wrapped around each other. They’re the second in that list of blessings. Even feels a surge of affection mixed with guilt for not recognising the kindness around him as often as he should; he's always too preoccupied with the matters that hurt. In this moment, he thinks he will be alright after all. He will live.

He hugs Mikael first and they rock side to side in excitement. Elias puts the sign between his knees, leans forward with his right hand clasped around Even’s and gives him a few solid pats in the back. Muta and Adam just hug him at the same time, enveloping him from beneath his arms.

They’re all talking and giggling very loudly in the airport until Even’s father clears his throat and says, “Boys…” gesturing to the people staring at them.

“Man, you gotta rush home, take a shower and change into something a little more formal,” Elias says, pointing at his white t-shirt. “The henna ceremony starts in an hour and Sana and Yousef are waiting for you.”

Mikael asks Even’s father, “Uncle, you know where the hotel is right?”

“Yes, Yousef sent me the address yesterday. I’ll drive all of us there. You boys get going.”

“You must have a lot of work to do. Go, boys,” his mother adds.

They hug Even once again, saying they’ll see him soon and rush off.

As Even’s dad drives him home, he finds himself feeling a little better. The boys’ excitement is infectious.

*****

The dinner has just started as Even and his parents walk in. The ballroom is relatively small for a hotel but is very grandly decorated with silk curtains draped against the stage, brilliant ruby lighting, gold tables and chairs and lush Moroccan-style pillows. The Moroccan music playing in the ballroom adds to the lavish celebration. 

He meets Elias, dressed in his traditional costume, looking more handsome than usual, talking to a relative of his at the entrance. He guides them in to a table that has apparently been reserved for Even’s family. They sit with Mikael’s family while Muta and Adam’s family are seated in the table next to them. Halfway through a conversation with Mikael’s mum about the lamb tagine with prune and almonds, he hears a commotion at the back and he sees Sana carried in a carriage by her family, dressed beautifully in gold and red and beaming with joy. He is breathless just looking at her. He didn’t realise how much of life back here that he has missed out on. She’s not wearing her usual dark eyeshadow and lipstick. Her makeup is lighter, pinker, glimmering even in the distance. She looks different although her dimpled smile is just as beautiful as he remembers. She looks out of the carriage and sees him perched on his seat; she waves her hand wildly with a laugh. He stands up and waves back with enthusiasm. He can’t help the tears in his eyes; he’s so filled with joy and gratitude that he can’t remember what he was so terrified about earlier today.

He must have missed Yousef’s entrance because he was already on the stage when Even turns around. Muta whistles at them, loud and cheerful as everybody practically swoons at the sight of the couple. Sana points Even out to Yousef and he walks over to the side of the stage, asking Even to come forth. When he does, Yousef bends down and hugs Even so tight that Even has to tiptoe a little to keep himself upright.

“Bro, I’m so happy to see you. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Me too, Yousef. I-- I really missed everyone.”

Sana offers her hand and squeezes his tightly, whispering, “My relatives are traditional. I’ll give you a big hug later.”

He laughs and replies, “I’ll hold you to it.”

He lets go as the ladies on the stage guide the couple back to their seats and Sana’s grandmother is given henna to apply on the bride and groom. Even returns to his chair and feels bittersweet. He wishes… he doesn’t know what he wishes for. He couldn’t imagine staying here all those year,s but he also oddly regrets leaving, now that he notices how much of an observer he has become in the lives of his friends and even his parents – people who should matter the most to him.

He snaps a picture of the ceremony and sends it to Rahima.

> _Aaawww so pretty_
> 
> **Right? They’re so beautiful together.**
> 
> _You holding up fine?_
> 
> **Yeah. My friends are with me.**
> 
> _Okay. You have fun. Talk later? <3_
> 
> **Sure. :)**

*********

Soon after the henna ceremony for the bride and groom, some of the closest guests were called up to apply henna on their palms for good luck.

The boys drag Even up with them and each of the groomsmen had henna quickly and efficiently placed on their palms. They were in the midst of a group photo when Even catches a glimpse of Eva and Noora walking up the stage. He waves at them, about to hug Noora when he sees the people standing behind her. Jonas, Vilde, Mahdi, Magnus, Chris… Isak and someone else.

Isak isn’t even looking at him. Too busy listening to the other guy who’s leaning towards him, muttering close to his ear. Even used to tuck stray curls behind that ear when Isak's hair would pop out of the cap or beanie that he used to wear. His hair is trimmed short now, no curls in sight although still just as golden. His jaw looks stronger from where Even's standing, more defined, as is the rest of his body. He is almost as tall as Even now, and judging by the way his moss green shirt stretches across his body, he has bulked up enough to fit in his shirts. His eyes look sharper, more confident when he looks around. He has never quite been a bubbly boy with friendly smiles for everyone but he looks more solemn than he used to. Practical, unfazed by the crowd. He's grown up, no longer a boy. Even wonders if he looks different too.

As he hugs Noora and compliments her radiance on autopilot, he looks down to see that Isak is holding hands with the guy. It would have been funny to observe how slow his awakening was if it weren’t for the numb pain and discomfort pulsing through him, watching the interaction like it was happening on a screen, not his reality. With that thought, time as he knows it, kick-starts and his stomach flips and he can’t think straight with the sudden need to get out of there. He can’t seem to get enough breath into his lungs and his heart drums erratically as he hugs Eva and Vilde together, fist bumps Chris. Jonas merely nods at him as he holds out his hand, but Magnus grabs it almost sympathetically to make up for Jonas. But he doesn’t attempt to hug Even, which is odd by itself. Mahdi pats him once on the shoulder and moves along. Then, it’s Isak. Even’s palms are clammy by now and he must look like a deer caught in the headlights. Isak simply smiles at him, easy. Like they’re long lost friends. He smiles and nods.

“Hello, Even. Good to see you. How’s London?” his voice, so familiar, but deeper than it used to be.

All the while, his hand is still intertwined with the other guy and Even can’t even raise his head to look at the man next to Isak. Even refuses to acknowledge that man.

“Good--” he clears his throat, “Good. You?” he croaks out like an idiot, which makes him feel more embarrassed.

 “Great. I heard you were bringing someone?” he says cheerfully as he turns around to look at Even’s dinner table, as though he might find the person.

“No. She had an interview to attend.”

“Oh, man. I hope she-- she aces it,” Isak grins.

“Right,” Even nods erratically like a broken doll, shuffling his feet and avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah… okay... that's my turn,” Isak says as he walks past him and reaches Sana.

Even surreptitiously glances at Sana to see her greet Isak _and_ the guy he’s with. Yousef hugs them both like he has known them for a long, long time, the other man included.

"Thank for coming, Andreas," Yousef says.

So... Andreas... Surprisingly, that stings more than seeing Isak’s hand clasped tightly around whoever freaking Andreas is. Everyone knew, nobody said a word to him. Not even Yousef. Not the dozen times he had called over the month.

He didn’t think to inform Even that, _oh, by the way, heads up, bud, you should brace yourself because Isak is with someone else._

It’s stupid. It’s not like he hoped that Isak would be alone. In fact, what good would it do for him if Isak ends up alone? That thought by itself makes his ache. He doesn’t want Isak to be by himself. But he also doesn’t want him to… he doesn’t know anymore. How can you spend three years of your life with someone, sleep and wake up next to them, eat with them, laugh and cry and shower and make out with them, whisper promises at night, lying on the same pillow with heads touching… and years later act like you’re meeting a neighbour from long ago? He still remembers _them_ together, Isak and Even, vividly, like a dream he can’t escape…

>  
> 
> “You know, I’m learning to make tea for you. From Sana.”  
> 
> “You don’t have to, love."
> 
> "What-- why?"
> 
> "I can make my own. I know how much you hate kitchen chores,” Even said, burying his nose in Isak’s hair.
> 
> “I don’t have to, but I want to. You make breakfast for me all the time.”
> 
> “It’s not a business transaction. You give me other things.”
> 
> “Like what? Name one thing,” Isak demanded, pulling his head away and staring Even in the eye.
> 
> “Se—“
> 
> “Don’t you dare say sex, asshole.”
> 
> “Hmmm… then it’s tough.”
> 
> Isak pinched Even’s side petulantly and the older boy chuckled in amusement at Isak’s pouting lips.
> 
> He dragged Isak against his side, placed a kiss on his pouting bottom lip, and whispered, “You give me kisses that linger for hours when I leave to work, you give me good days and you help me deal with the bad ones… And like… you bought me new socks just two days ago when mine had a hole at the toe—“
> 
> “None of that counts, you’ve done the same for me.”
> 
> “Again, not a business transaction.“
> 
> “I know, I know,” Isak whined. “I just want to take care of you like you take care of me. You seem to do more for me.”
> 
> “You’re taking care of me right now, babe,” Even uttered, nuzzling against his cheek and intertwining their fingers.
> 
> “And how am I doing that? Look, even now, you’re the one holding me,” Isak rolled his eyes.
> 
> “And you’re letting me."
> 
> Isak snorted like it meant nothing.
> 
> "You don’t understand what that means to me… I get this, you with me, just like this,” Even muttered against the knob of his shoulder.
> 
> Isak turned to his side, wrapped his arms and legs around Even until they were laying nose-to-nose and said quietly, “That is something I can give, always, forever.”
> 
> “Forever is a long time,” Even mumbles half-heartedly, nudging Isak’s nose.
> 
> “Try me,” Isak said resolutely before kissing him hard.
> 
>  

He quietly steps off the stage without anyone noticing and goes back to sit with his parents. His mum holds his forearm like she wants him to look at her, to reassure her that he has not gotten tangled in his dark thoughts.

“Baby…” she starts.

“Mum, can we go home, you think?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, THE FIRST MEETING AFTER A LONG TIME! Let me know what you think?  
> P/S: Sorry if I got the Moroccan henna ceremony wrong. Please do correct me if my research is faulty.


	8. love is so short, forgetting is so long.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why didn’t you tell me?” Even finally gets to the point.
> 
> “About what?”
> 
> “You didn’t tell me he was bringing someone. I wasn’t rea—wasn’t expecting that. You called me so many times and you didn’t say a word. I mean, it’s not just that. I know nothing about anything that happens here anymore.”
> 
> He knows he sounds accusatory now, that he has no right to demand to be included in their lives, but he can’t help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far. :)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COqx-TCxrSk
> 
> My go-to song every time I write angst. Maybe you'd wanna listen to it too.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.  
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too...

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.  
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. 

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once  
belonged to my kisses.  
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. 

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.  
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

― Pablo Neruda

 

 

Even feels groggy and annoyed at the world. It’s the sound of his phone vibrating against his bedside table that rudely woke him from a much needed sleep. He had spent all night tossing and turning after talking to Rahima for two hours.

The first hour had him spilling all the details of the night, even some intimate parts of their past relationship - memories, promises made and broken- to make sense of them by talking it out.

And he ended with a quiet question, no closer to sense than before, “Why does it…?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why does it still hurt?”

To which Rahima answered, “Oh, Even… It just does,” a little too empathetically than he liked.

He wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone, let alone someone as bright and good as Rahima.

The next hour of that conversation was filled with a lot of sighs, stretched silence, and a daily update of the most random happenings. The part where he cried on the phone, sniffling like the eight year old child he was when Oreo, his dog, died? And the part where Rahima said “Ssshhhh… it’s alright, let it out,” when he apologised? Those parts? He’s going to drink himself to death to forget that they happened. Or at least sleep for another 12 hours to not have to think about it.  

But his phone indicates 1.08 pm and he promised to meet the boys at the hall to help out for the wedding the next day. They had gotten worried when he left without saying goodbye and showed up at his place, right after he ended the phone call with Rahima. With his nose running and his eyes swollen, he told them he had an allergic reaction and had to leave. He thinks they bought the lie.

They sat with him in his room for an hour, planning the next day’s errands and left him with a warm hug. He told Elias that he’d show up at 12.00 pm to accompany Yousef to the last minute costume tailoring, if any was necessary. His own suit needed a little tailoring anyway. He has had 4 missed calls so far and a bunch of texts that he doesn’t plan to read. He hits dial on Elias’ contact icon, tells him he’ll be there.

When he shows up to the hall, freshly showered yet still looking like shit, Mikael offers to go out and buy him hot lemon tea. He doesn’t think it works for allergies… or a broken heart for that matter, he doesn’t know where Mikael got the idea, but he lets Mikael do that anyway, just to see the satisfied grin on his face when Even takes a sip and thanks him. After helping Elias carry some items out of the small truck they rented, (the boys had decided to save the cost of wedding by helping the interior designer to do manual labour instead of hiring more people) Even drives over to Yousef’s to fetch him.

Yousef seems so excited to see him, all hugs and huge smiles and “thank you for showing up” and “it’s been so long, bro, so much to catch up.” In any other circumstances, Even would have reciprocated in kind. But Even is still slightly resentful about yesterday’s encounter with Andre or whoever the fuck to actually loosen up around Yousef. He knows, he knows it’s Andreas. He thinks he reserves the right to be petty in his own mind. 

Halfway through the fitting, after Yousef has finished talking about the day Sana told her parents, the dinner, the engagement, the honeymoon trip that they have yet to plan and a million other things that Even hardly responded to, he says, “Why are you so quiet, man? Tell me about you.”

“Nothing much. I go to class, I come home,” Even says, crumpling the cup that Mikael had gotten him earlier that day.

“What about your date? Why isn’t he--aren’t they here?” Yousef asks politely.

“It’s a she. She has an informal interview for an internship that she’s looking forward to.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Even nods. “What’s her name?”

“Rahima.”

“Duuuude…”

“What?”

“I totally called it on the first day itself. You said it wasn’t Rahima. You lied. I could have won the bet with the boys,” Yousef says, playfully disgruntled.

“I didn’t know I was going to ask her then. Only decided later.”

Yousef looks confused. “Was there someone else before her?”

“No.”

“How long have you both been together?” Yousef asks to keep the conversation alive.

“Who said we were together?”

It’s irrational, this irritation towards Yousef. _Yousef_ of all people. The boy who gave up his religion to stand by his friend. But Even’s just having a hard time today and he’s snappy. It feels like he swallowed sand; he can’t get rid of the dreadful feeling in his chest.

“Not together? I thought _date_ date?” Yousef emphasises.

“I meant ‘plus one for a wedding I didn’t want to attend alone’ date.”

“So… you’re not seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Ah, okay.” Yousef fidgets for a beat or two while the tailor works in silence.

“Wait… Sir, can I please get my phone?” Yousef says to the tailor who is currently looking a little annoyed with Yousef’s request.

“Please? Sorry.” he says, stepping off the elevated centre of the room to grab his phone and returns to his position.

He types something all the while explaining to Even, “Sorry, forgot to tell Sana that I was here. That I _am_ here, I mean. Didn’t text her in a couple of hours.”

After tailoring Even’s suit to fit him more snugly, Yousef says, “I got to be home because my parents are superstitious about being out before the wedding day. But come home with me? We can hang out. There’s lots of food.”

Even wants to refuse, but he sees the look on Yousef’s face. He’s trying. Trying to get to know Even again. He doesn’t have the heart to turn down the offer.

*****

“…So there I was, trying to find a symbolic gift for the engagement and Mikael, right? He points at chewing gum. Chewing gum! Being all like, “Sana chews that a lot.” Elias was like, “Yeah, my sister is resilient like gum.” It was ridiculous,” Yousef laughs a little as he regales Even with more stories.

Even, despite feeling crappy about his life, is genuinely happy that Yousef is so excited to be married to Sana. He just can't find it in himself to express it at the moment. He’s smiling in spite of his mood, drinking cordial juice when Yousef takes him by surprise.

“So, what is it?” he asks.

“What is what?”

“Come on, Even. Something’s up. You don’t look too good. I searched for you yesterday to take a picture and Mikael’s mum told me you left abruptly.”

“I… I had this—like an allergic reaction. I told the boys about it.”

“I heard. But did you really?”

“Yes,” he says, determined to maintain the lie.

“I hope you’re feeling better then,” Yousef says, still sceptical.

Even just nods. The silence stretches between them as Yousef busies himself by changing the song in his laptop.

“You didn’t tell me Isak is—that Isak was bringing someone. Yesterday, I mean. Did you know about it?” Even asks, not looking Yousef in the eye.

“Oh yeah, Andreas. They're together in uni.”

“What does he do?”

“Biophysics or something like that.”

“Ha… who would have thought?” Even says.

“What?”

“He hated Physics in school. Always said he was going to study something to do with animals.”

“Wait. You mean Isak? Yeah, he’s doing Veterinary Medicine. 2nd year now. I thought you were asking about Andreas.”

Even feels like a stranger now more than ever. Inconsequentially passing by the lives of the very people whom he had once been important to. How did the world shift so much in two years? He is irrelevant now. His absence has healed over without a scar.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Even finally gets to the point.

“About what?”

“You didn’t tell me he was bringing someone. I wasn’t rea—wasn’t expecting that. You called me so many times and you didn’t say a word. I mean, it’s not just that. I know nothing about anything that happens here anymore.”

He knows he sounds accusatory now, that he has no right to demand to be included in their lives, but he can’t help it.

Yousef stares at him for a long time before saying quietly, “You didn’t ask, Even.”

“Really now? Didn’t ask? Fuck… Yousef, man, come on, I didn’t technically ask about the gift you had to buy for the engagement either. Didn’t stop you from telling me for like an entire hour, did it?” Even blurts out, instantly regretting every word.

“But… you didn’t _ask_ , Even,” he emphasises, as though Even isn’t getting it. “You didn’t ask about Isak at all. Not once since you broke up. I thought… I don’t know—I didn’t know that you wanted to _know_ these things. I didn’t want to bring it up,” Yousef ends quietly.

“Then, how does Isak know that I’m bringing someone from London, huh? You didn’t have any problems keeping _him_ updated.”

“I didn’t. Sana must have.”

“Well, she didn’t say anything to me too. She bugged me for days about whether or not I’m bringing a plus one. All those phone calls… she told me about Elias’ date, Noora’s date and-- and Eva’s and Vilde’s and even Sonja’s when I mentioned that I’m bringing someone. The entire gang practically, but didn’t say a thing to me about whoever the fuck Isak brings, but he seems to know that I’m--”

“You didn’t ask!” Yousef interrupts resolutely in defence of Sana. “ _You_ broke up with him, remember? You left to London without informing any of us, remember? We had to hear about it from your mum, Even. We didn’t even know if you wanted to keep in touch with us, let alone hear about Isak.”

Even is speechless for a while, feeling guilty after being called out.

“He—he used to ask about you. So yeah, Sana probably told him,” Yousef says.

When Even doesn’t reply, he adds, “Look, I’ll tell her not to if you don’t want him to know—“

Even just shakes his head. It isn’t that. It’s not about Sana or Isak. It’s about himself. The stories that he can no longer claim as his own. He doesn’t want to say it so he keeps quiet.

After a beat or two of stewing in the uncomfortable silence, Yousef gets up to make a sandwich for them both and Even just nods, resigned. It’s true that he never asked about Isak. Not because he didn’t care or wasn't curious. He didn’t know how to listen with detachment, unaffected by the other person’s life. Isak seems to be better at it. For Even, it just hurts too much.

The last time he ever saw Isak before he moved in with his parents and promptly left to London, he sat on the floor, packing his items in a box. He moved sluggishly in the empty house, hollowed out and lost, ears ringing with the absence of another beating heart in the next room. He was terrified to breathe in that space, afraid that he'd hear his own blood pumping through his veins. The deafening silence without Isak in the house was like a crouching predator, awaiting one wrong move on Even's part before going for his throat. He wiped his tears every once in a while in case they dropped on the floor and made a sound, set the predator in motion.

Isak walked in through the front door after being out all morning, carrying a box of pizza, scarf draped over it as though he was hiding the pizza from the rest of the tenants in their apartment block. He brought the box to their bedroom mindlessly, stripped his jeans and cap off and dropped the scarf on their shared bed. Even wiped his face with his t-shirt and started breathing again. It's odd how easily he was comforted by the younger boy's presence even after the demise of their relationship. Isak returned with the pizza box and a book on top of it.

He came up to Even, squatted down in front of him and dropped the box of pizza, opening it and promptly taking a huge bite out of a slice. Even continued to rearrange his paintings and sketches, trying to get them all to fit in with his books. He didn’t look up.

Isak sat there for a while before walking to the kitchen. Even heard him opening a canned drink, probably the last can of Coke in the fridge. They stopped storing alcohol in the house so as to not tempt Even. He was so lost in his thoughts about how there will never again be a canned drink in that fridge, not one that they bought together anyway, no more grocery shopping on weekends… that he was startled when Isak showed up out of nowhere and asked quietly,  “Found this on the... the shelf. Check if the book is yours?”

Even looked at the cover from the distance that Isak was holding it at, while the younger boy busied himself with another slice of pizza.

“Cecilia what? I can’t see…"

When Isak pushed it towards him, Even said, "P/S I Love you? No."

“You sure?” Isak had asked, head tilted to the side. “Cause this isn’t my book. Must be yours,” he handed it to Even insistently.

Even opened the front cover alone, careful not to crack the spine, looked for a name scribbled on it and when he didn’t find any, he announced, “Definitely not mine. I always have my name on it. Maybe someone left it at our place?”

Even flinched. It has become just a place now. Not “our”. Nothing belongs to the two of them together anymore. But Isak didn't notice it. 

Isak shrugged, “Ah, okay. Pizza?”

Even shook his head.

“Sure?”

Even nodded once and Isak simply retrieved the box, left the book on the couch that Even was leaning against, and went into their once shared room, closed the door behind him and played Tupac’s Greatest Hits. He didn’t come out for the next three hours, not even to say goodbye or hug him one last time when Even was leaving. He carried the boxes, one by one, into his dad’s car until the hall was devoid of his stuff.

He wanted to knock, to see Isak one last time in their home, capture a mental picture of him, still lounging on their shared bed, but he felt unwelcomed by the blaring music and the locked door.

He just left a note on their kitchen counter, one that they had shared so many meals upon.

 

> Isak,
> 
> Dad’s here. Got to go.
> 
> Take care. <3

 

He almost wanted to scribble over the <3 . Felt like it might be too intrusive for Isak. But some stubborn part of him left it unmarked.

He didn’t want to ask his friends after if Isak had noticed the <3 . Had said anything about Even leaving without saying goodbye. He was afraid that Isak had overlooked it like it didn’t mean anything, with the same carelessness that he overlooked how easily he had broken Even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far. :)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COqx-TCxrSk
> 
> My go-to song every time I write angst. Maybe you'd wanna listen to it too. 
> 
> Let me know what you think about the chapter?


	9. we live like comets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And that was how he caught Isak walking in, minutes before the ceremony started. Even couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed impeccably in a tight fitting blue shirt, dark grey vest and tie, a lighter grey suit that hugs his waist beautifully, with a matching dark blue trousers. Even knows he looked sophisticated enough in his white shirt, with his black bow tie, and a fitting black suit but nothing compared to Isak, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wedding chapter is here. Let the conflicts begin!

_“You learn eventually that, while there are no villains, there are no heroes either._  
_And until you make the final discovery that there are only human beings,_  
who are therefore all the more fascinating,  
you are liable to miss something.”   
_― Paul Gallico_

 

The Moroccan music in the hall is loud and vibrant; a lot of people are on the dance floor. Yousef is in the middle of it, dancing with Elias and Mikael, Sana standing nearby, clapping her hands to the beat like everyone around her with a beaming smile. She is wearing a brilliant, white kaftan, top half heavily embellished in gold sequence, yet looking as light and beautiful as a feather as her dress flows around her. This is her fourth and last costume change of the day. To match her, Yousef is also dressed in a grand white and gold suit. They look so radiant that all eyes are on them, but Even... has a serious problem.

When he walked into the hall an hour before the Koranic recital to help the boys with last minute preparation, all he hoped for was for the wedding to end so he could go home and sleep it off. He was to stand next to Mikael on the groom’s side when the ceremony begins, positioned in a way that helps the photographers take pictures of all of them. From his designation, he could see the rest of the hall.

And that was how he caught Isak walking in, minutes before the ceremony started. Even couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed impeccably in a tight fitting blue shirt, dark grey vest and tie, a lighter grey suit that hugs his waist beautifully, with a matching dark blue trousers. Even knows he looked sophisticated enough in his white shirt, with his black bow tie, and a fitting black suit but nothing compared to Isak, he thought.

The surge of attraction he felt at the sight threw him off his game for the whole day. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. It didn’t help that Isak showed up alone and sat with Jonas. It doesn’t mean anything that Andreas isn't here but Even is counting his small blessings today.

All throughout the ceremony, his eyes sought Isak out, seated with Jonas. A couple of times, Isak caught him staring and he looked away abruptly or just nodded slightly and turned away. But even more daunting than getting caught by Isak was Jonas’ glare. Even when Isak wasn’t paying attention to Even, Jonas was. And when Even smiled at him, Jonas merely stared long enough to make it uncomfortable and didn’t cut it out until Even looked away. Geez… if he didn’t know any better, he’d assume Jonas was the boyfriend, not Andreas. The last time Even swivelled his head in their direction, Jonas quirked an eyebrow, looking angry and Even has been keeping out of sight since then.

When the food was served after the religious ceremony, the boys wanted to take pictures with the bride and groom first. As they stood posing for the camera, Even looked over and saw Isak seated at the left hand corner, close to the exit to the washroom. He had the sudden impulse to use the washroom just then. If it’s only just to pass Isak and maybe say hi, nobody has to know.

When he strolled over with feigned casualty, Isak was busy looking down at the table, focused on something while talking to the little boy seated next to him, Sana’s nephew. As he neared, he could see Isak scribbling on a napkin and passing it over to the boy with a pen and the boy mindless drew a circle and passed it over again. They were playing tic-tac-toe, although the boy is obviously much too young to defeat Isak at the game.

That was Even’s reality check. A stupid game of tic-tac-toe on a napkin. It’s something mundane that Isak and Even had done countless time whenever they ate outside. Even always carried a pen with him to doodle on whatever he finds whenever he wants to. Isak had also started carrying a pen in his pocket then.

Once, they spent an entire dinner date in a restaurant without a single word spoken between them other than to order the food. Even wrote “Hi, babe :) ” on the napkin and passed it over for fun and Isak had replied. It led to a conversation written on napkins all night long, and the waiters must have been pissed with the number of napkins they used up, but it was an oddly intimate and revealing moment. There were secrets shared, things that neither Isak nor Even, (particularly Isak) couldn’t express to the other in a usual circumstance. Snippets of Isak’s life before meeting Even, his relationship with his mum, how he accidentally killed a bird once, trying to force feed it into health, his tragic crush on his best friend…  It became a romantic ritual, napkins and receipts and wrappers, whatever they find, whenever they were outside together.

Seeing Isak fold over the napkin to start a new game of tic-tac-toe stung in a way he didn’t expect it to so he decided to forego the trip to the washroom and returned to where his parents were seated, six tables away.

But now that the dance floor is alive with people and the sound of laughter, he sees Isak standing in the crowd, swaying with the music with an arm around Chris, cheering Yousef on and he can’t tear his eyes away. He thinks he’s allowed to stare now, nobody’s judging when he’s looking in the general direction of the bride and groom.

Magnus crosses path with him and waves a hand while balancing a plate of desserts on his other hand, and Even pulls out the chair next to him, indicating that Magnus could sit with him if he wanted. His parents had left after sending their regards to the newly married. Magnus looks hesitant for a second like he has some other place to be.

“Oh… you got somewhere else to—“

“Uh, no no. We can sit here. There’s enough space for three,” Magnus says, looking over to catch the attention of Jonas and Mahdi as they pile their plates with delicacies too.

Magnus and Even are only just having a pleasant conversation when Jonas and Mahdi come over, see Even seated at the table and turn back. It doesn’t occur to Even that Jonas is intentionally avoiding him, so he calls Jonas over as though he may not have heard Magnus the first time around. Jonas walks away, rudely dismissive of Even, and Mahdi follows.

“Uhh… I’m—I’m sorry, Even. He’s just… I don't know.” Magnus tries to find an explanation.

“Maybe you’d want to go join your friends, Mags?” Even asks, giving him an out.

“Uhmm… It’s alright, I can sit here with you.”

“You don’t have to. Go ahead. I’m fine here, was just watching the dance,” Even points randomly, trying to save his face.

He feels like Magnus is sitting with him out of pity and hates it. He can’t tell why Jonas is so pissed at him. He can guess the reason, he did break up with Jonas’ best friend. But it isn’t like Isak didn’t want it. He just didn’t have the guts to ask for a break up, instead he stayed with Even the same way Magnus is insisting that he'll stay. If anything, he did Isak a favour by letting him go.

After a beat of silence as Even watches Magnus eat, he asks, “Is Jonas mad at me? You think?”

“Yeah?” Magnus replies guiltily.

“Why?”

“That, you gotta ask him yourself.”

When Even merely looks into the distance, not making a move, Magnus sighs and looks over to Jonas and back.

“Listen, Even. I’m not—I don’t judge. You get what I mean? I understand more than most cause, you know, my mum is like—she’s bipolar too. But others are not as… I guess it’s hard for everyone,” he finishes lamely.

“What does... Jonas has a problem with me being bipolar?” Even asks incredulously.

“Look, forget I said anything. I just mean that I’m not—never mind, sorry I said anything.”

Even is surprised that Magnus brings up his bipolar disorder. He knows Magnus’ mum has it too, Isak had told him before. But why now? What does it have to do with Jonas being angry at him? That, of all things, makes him want to speak to Jonas, because he feels riled up now. It’s one thing to be insulted by Jonas and his dismissal of Even, it’s another if it has something to do with his illness.

Over the years, Even has made peace with who he is. A lot of people try and tell him that his mental illness does not define him. Maybe that’s true. But he’s learning to accept even the parts that hurt to live with. He’s less self-hating than before. And if Jonas has a problem with him because of that, Even wants to have a word with him.

He waits till Mahdi leaves in the direction of the washroom before he makes a beeline to Jonas’ table, despite Magnus’ protests. He drags the chair next to Jonas diagonally in order to face him as Magnus comes after him and Jonas mouths , “What the fuck…”

“What’s your deal with me?” Even asks, straight to the point.

“Tell your friend to fuck off, Mags,” Jonas replies, resolutely stabbing his fork into a date truffle on his plate.

“Why don’t you tell it to my face?”

Jonas turns to Even with a glare and mutters through clenched teeth, “Fuck. Off.”

“Grow some balls and tell me what the fuck is your problem, Jonas,” Even aggravates.

He is not the kind of guy who uses the phrase, ‘grow some balls.’ In fact, he despises the phrase and wouldn’t tolerate it let alone direct it at someone. But he knows that it will anger Jonas enough to force him into being blunt with Even.

“You’re lucky we’re at a wedding or I’ll take you out and sock you right now.”

Magnus butts in, “Boys, come on, let it go—“

“Well, too bad. Since you can’t do that, might as well stop being a fucking coward and speak up,” Even raises his voice at Jonas.

“I’m a coward?! Me? Son of a-- You’re the coward! You’re the sort of spineless shit who can’t deal with your own problems and have to make a hell out of everyone else’s life. You’re an asshole is my problem. I feel sorry for whoever the fuck you’re dating right now. I hope they dump you before you fuck ‘em over like you fuck everyone else over--”

“What the hell does that mean? I didn—“

“Boys! What the hell?”

They turn around to see Sonja and Noora, frowning at them with distaste.

“Fighting in Sana’s wedding? Fucking classy,” says Noora bitingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading thus far. We'll unravel Isak's side of the story in the next chapter. Please do let me know your thoughts on this one. :)


	10. who is going to make amends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even sighs deeply and says, “Can we just have one decent fucking conversation, Isak? Please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update. My work takes up so much of my life. But I'll update another chapter by the end of the day.

 

 

 

 

_I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms  
_ _with the people we used to be,  
_ _whether we find them attractive company or not.  
_ _Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us,  
_ _come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. of a bad night  
_ _and demand to know who deserted them,  
_ _who betrayed them,  
_ _who is going to make amends.”_

_― Joan Didion_

 

Even finds a small, quiet spot far away from the ceremony. It’s a lonely stairway that connects the wedding hall with another hall that is empty and dark. There was a middle-aged man there, looking at his phone, some relative of either Sana or Yousef that he hadn’t recognised but the middle-aged man merely said, “I’m done smoking,” and left.

Even sits on the staircase, hiding himself behind a column and calls Rahima. He tells her everything, from the way his heart tripped carelessly around Isak today, Jonas shouting at him, Noora telling them off and giving them both a piece of her mind, how Jonas had angrily stormed off after telling Magnus to pass a message to Isak about his leaving… everything.

Nothing made sense, even as he explains to her. He doesn’t know what happened, why, he doesn’t even know if he wants it to make sense, if he wants to figure anything out.

He’s talking about booking an earlier flight to London when he hears someone say, “Jonas?” right before he sees a familiar blonde move past the column.

“Oh, sorry. Was just looking for Jonas. Sorry,” mutters Isak.

 “He’s not here,” Even says.

“Yeah… I assumed. Alright then, I'll look for him in the washroom,” says Isak, turning around.

“No, wait. I meant he left.”

“He left?”

“Yeah, he told Magnus to tell you. Didn’t he?”

“No… I haven’t bumped into Magnus yet. That’s—I guess that’s fine. You go on. Sorry,” Isak says, gesturing at the phone in Even’s hand, where he’s holding it a little further away from his ear.

 “No, I’m done anyway,” Even replies, hastily saying bye to Rahima and putting the phone in his pocket.

“Oh…” says Isak awkwardly, unsure if he is expected to stay and resume the conversation or if he is dismissed.

Isak clears his throat when he catches Even staring at him.

“Hmmm… why did Jonas leave, did he say? He was my ride.”

“He… it had something to do with me?” Even asks, hoping Isak could fill in the blanks.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s pissed at me for being an asshole or something,” Even answers, still trying to gauge Isak’s reaction.

Isak looks almost guilty for a second. But when he opens his mouth to say something, he looks up at Even and shuts his mouth.

As though Isak has noticed the game Even was playing, his expression becomes almost indifferent as he says, “I’ll just find another ride home then.”

For some reason, it grates on Even’s nerve. He sees the wall Isak puts up and he is pissed about it.

“Can’t Andre or whoever—“

“Andreas,” Isak interrupts with a resolute voice.

“Yeah—can’t he come and get you?” Even asks in a quiet challenge.

“I’m not a child. I can find my way home.”

“Nobody said you were,” Even answers with an eyebrow raised.

“I gotta go,” Isak says, taking his hand off the railing that he was grasping at.

Even sighs deeply and says, “Can we just have one decent fucking conversation, Isak? Please?”

That almost angers Isak. Almost. He sees the way Isak’s shoulders tense and jaws work but he looks at Even and he must have sensed the resignation on the older boy’s face because he lets it go.

“About what?”

“Anything? It’s just—it’s kind of hard being here right now. I’m surrounded by so many people but it’s just-- I just—I don’t know what I’m saying,” Even finishes lamely.

Even hates that he even said _anything_. He hates that he didn’t just let Isak walk away. It’s fucking ridiculous. He’s feeling all vulnerable and lonely and angry at God knows what and this isn’t how he wants Isak to see him. Pathetically hiding away in a secret corner in Sana’s wedding, hurt and mulling over Jonas’ words, and then just short of begging Isak to stay a while and talk to him. He contemplates taking it back and telling Isak to leave, give him an out, but he keeps his mouth shut when Isak quietly walks over. He looks for stains on the carpeted staircase, and when he finds none, unbuttons his suit and sits next to Even on the stairs, not saying anything.

“You look… nice,” Even says.

“Thanks. You too.”

There was a time when they had dressed in suits together for prom. Isak had helped Even with his tie. Even so easily leaned over and kissed him then, taking a picture of them together and sharing it on instagram. The silence grows between them as Even’s heart thuds away, his mind trying to catch hold of the tail of one conversation or another but failing with words.

Isak fills it in, “I heard you’re doing filmmaking now.”

When Even nods and risks a glance at Isak, the younger boy smiles. It’s a minute twitch of the lips but entirely absorbing, majestic in its effect on Even.

Even just stares at his mouth as Isak says softly, “I’m happy for you. You’re gonna be a great director someday. I’ll watch you on TV.”

It’s such a bittersweet feeling, hearing that from Isak. Even did not realise just how much he had craved for Isak’s approval, how badly he wanted Isak to know what Even had been up to, to make him feel proud of Even. There was a time, a quiet moment like this, where they had laid on the couch after watching a movie, talked about the award shows that Even aspired to attend, how he’ll bring Isak as his date, they’ll shop for suits together, they’ll attend interviews, Even would have the sweetest things to say in his acceptance speech, about Isak and his love that had opened Even up to so many possibilities in life. It’s all just a daydream then, not something that Even truly believed in. He didn't think he'd make it as a professional director or anything like that. But it seems like Isak did. And Even feels… sad. Because in this new, amended version of their daydream, Isak isn’t standing next to Even on the red carpet. Isak is somewhere else, watching him on TV, like Even is just some random guy in his school that made it.

“And you’re going to be a vet,” Even replies, unable to tear his gaze from Isak’s face.

He wants to commit this small moment of reprieve that they have to memory. It’s maybe the only moment left. This is them, Even and Isak, years older, wearier of the world yet more at peace with the person they turned out to be, looking back with a slight nod of acknowledgement of what they meant to each other, the pipe dreams they shared, curled around each other as teenagers.

“I am. Sometimes I still can’t believe I got into uni on a full ride,” Isak says with a small laugh.

“I can. I’ve always known you would. You’re smart.”

“Hmmm… Thanks,” Isak says, finally looking back at Even.

Even smiles tenderly, it’s all too close to the surface. He’s not happy with the fact that they’re no longer together, but he is grateful that they have both turned out alright. At least in the most basic sense, they’ve figured some things out about themselves, and the years together, loving each other had at least taught them to love themselves a little better.

“I’m proud of you, Isak. Always have but still... just saying,” Even says, lightly bumping Isak on the shoulder.

The younger boy looks down at his hands and nods, “Proud of you too.”

And as though to remind Even of his boundaries, Isak stands up and says, “Well, I gotta go find Magnus. You take care, man. And… have a safe flight.”

Even feels his throat constricting, feeling like his emotions will get the better of him, and he'll utter something stupid like _stay_ or _please_ or  _did you miss me like I missed you?_  So, he smiles and replies hoarsely with the utmost sincerity, “Thank you. You take good care of yourself, Isak.”

*****

Even’s on his bed that night, scribbling on his old sketch book. He doodles randomly, candle, skull, sunflower, the old can on his bedside that he hadn’t cleaned up from two days ago. And then he finds himself sketching a comic strip. The old habit he had, living with Isak, only that his drawing skills has gotten better over the years. He sketches Isak standing and Even sitting on the staircase, with a speech bubble over Isak’s head that says, “Have a safe flight.” Then, he sketches three more panels of parallel universes, one of the same scenario but a speech bubble over Isak’s head that says, “Stay.” Another of the two of them sitting next to each other in the staircase, holding hands. The last panel was one of them leaning their foreheads against each other, Even saying, “I missed you.”

He drops the book on the floor and falls into a fitful sleep. He is woken up an hour or so later by his dad softly running his hand through his hair and pulling the blanket over him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” his dad says, kisses him on the head. “Go back to sleep, son.”

“Dad?” Even calls.

“Yes, buddy?”

“Did you ever love anyone before mum?”

His father instinctively understands that there is a conversation to be had and perches on the bed.

“Yes, I did.”

“And how did that go?”

“I don’t know. We broke up. She married someone else a couple of years after. Then I met your mum.”

“Did you miss her?”

“Your mum?”

“The other woman.”

His dad chuckles, “Don’t put it like that. It sounds like I’m having an affair.”

Even smiles and says, “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

“I guess I did? Once in a while.”

“Did you wish you did something differently then? Not be with mum or whatever?”

As soon as Even says it, he wonders if he really wants the answer. He loves his parents immensely and he loves that they love each other. It would certainly break his heart if his dad says yes. But Even is still half-drowsy with sleep and heartsick and he couldn’t stop himself.

“No,” his dad answers. “You see, we miss a lot of people in life. But we learn to live without. And of all that people, I’d rather not miss your mum. Know what I’m saying?”

“Cause she’s the one for you, the love of your life.”

“I don’t know if that exists, Even, to be honest. I don’t believe it. I don’t think your mother believes it either. We _make_ the love happen. It isn’t predestined or anything. That’s one thing I learnt from my relationship with... my ex, the one I told you about? We told ourselves it wasn’t meant to be and that's what happened. We broke up. Your mum and I, now we’ve seen some bad times together. We know it’s not easy. But we don’t ever say it wasn’t meant to be. We just work at it.”

Even feels a pang of guilt. He accounts for many of the bad times that his parents had to suffer through together. When Even merely stares past his father, the older man adds, “I think I know where you’re going with this, son.”

That catches Even’s attention.

“You want to know if this is normal...”

When Even raises his eyebrow, his dad gestures at his notebook that is still sprawled open on the floor. He feels embarrassed but it’s too late to hide it now that his dad has seen it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to peek. Just wanted to turn off the bedside light and saw it.”

“It’s okay,” Even replies. “Is it normal?” he asks quietly.

“I guess? You loved him and you’re not over losing him. It’s okay that you miss him. Like I said, we miss a lot of people in life. Everyone regrets one thing or the other. It’s just… living. You’ll learn to live without sooner or later.”

“But how if… how if he’s like what mum is to you?”

When his dad takes a moment to consider it, Even says, “How if I’d rather _not_ miss him? Of all the people in the world.”

“You’re young, Even. He’s your first love and all. It’s special. But there’s more to—“

“No, dad, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m not. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Sonja was my first love. Not Isak. And I miss Sonja, dad. Once in a while, like you said. I’m alright with that. I miss Isak all the fucking time. He was good to me.”

His dad nods sympathetically.

“And I know I’m young. I know if I give it a few more years, I’ll maybe find someone I’d like... half as much as I like him and maybe I can make that work. But—but how if I don’t want to? How if I don’t want to live without him?”

“You’ve been doing it for two years, son. You’ve been doing fine. It’s just this whole wedding thing that’s confusing you. When you go back to London, you’ll be okay again.”

“That’s not living, dad. That’s running. It’s what I’ve done for two years. Maybe Jonas is right. I’m a coward, am I not?”

"What do you mean, Jonas is right?" his father asks skeptically.

Even merely shrugs it off, not wanting to disclose his argument with Jonas.

His dad sighs. He knows Even can be stubborn and he wants to be the optimistic, supportive father who tells his son to be brave and go for it, go tell Isak how he feels. But he’s too practical for that. Even can see the struggle in his father’s posture.

“Okay, Even but here’s the thing. You broke up with him, _not_ because you didn't want it to work. It was because he no longer made the effort, remember? You said he didn’t love you anymore. What will change now?”

Even wants to despise his father for this but he’s right. Nothing has changed. Even didn’t realise it but he supposes he got his hopes up because Isak was decent enough to entertain him for a while today. After all, Isak has a boyfriend. Even nods understandingly, drops his head on the pillow with the weight of his misfortune.

His father pats him on the cheek, does what he used to do on days when Even suffered through a depressive episode and can’t get out of bed. He bumps his forehead against Even like he wishes he could absorb all the madness in his mind.

And he whispers, “I’m sorry, bud. Sometimes, we just don't get to redo life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me. Let me know what you think. We're building up to the revelation. Few more chapters to go (I know, I know, you can't wait for the angst to end and the happy ending to begin)


	11. your hand on the knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wait, Isak talked about me?” Even asks.

_Who has not sat before his own heart's curtain?_   
_It lifts: and_   
_the scenery is falling apart._   
_-Rainer Maria Rilke_

 

“If it bothers you so much, why not just talk to him?” Rahima asks on the phone, as though it’s so easy.

“About what? What can I possibly say?” Isak replies, annoyed at her nonchalance.

“I don’t know. Just tell him you miss him.”

Even rolls his eyes but before he could say anything biting, Rahima adds, “Listen, what’s the worst that could happen? He tells you off or ignores you, you take the flight home to London at the end of the week and move on with your life. Or you can stay wondering for the rest of time if you could have said something. Up to you.”

“But dad’s right. Nothing I say will make a difference--”

“Who’s talking about making a difference? It doesn’t have to be a make or break thing, Even. It’s just… being honest about how you feel.”

“What’s the point?”

“Relief. Peace. Closure. We don’t always get a happy ending for everything, Even—“

“I know but—“

She interrupts, “That shouldn’t make things any less meaningful. Happiness isn’t the end goal for everything. Making peace though, that means something.”

Before Even could process her words, he hears a honk outside. Sonja’s here. They planned to meet up for coffee and cake during the wedding and while he doesn’t have the mood for it, he doesn’t want to offend her. She was nice enough to ask. And lately, it seems like he doesn’t quite have as many friends as he used to, so he should treat the ones he has better, he thinks.

“I gotta go. Sonja’s here.”

“Right, have fun. Make a decision, one way or another and stick to it. Stop muddling things up in your head, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he says, hanging up.

Even orders black coffee and pecan butterscotch cake while Sonja chooses caramel macchiato with hot brownie and vanilla ice cream.

“Isn’t that way too sweet?” he asks with a judgmental smirk.

“Isn’t that none of your business?” she retorts with a sarcastically sweet voice.

They fall back into their old manner of banters and speak about anything and everything, no matter how immaterial. He appreciates this about Sonja. They have been through many, many rough patches. There are some things that they have said to or about each other that neither can forget nor forgive completely. But over the years, they have formed a sort of pact, an understanding that comes with familiarity. They’ve seen the worst of each other, and for the most part, they stuck together despite the ugly fights. They aren’t particularly close or anything but Sonja makes an effort to keep in touch.

When Even was with Isak early in their relationship, he knew Isak was in touch with Sonja, especially whenever Even had a meltdown. Isak would call her up and talk to her about it. It used to irk him; once or twice he had been so infuriated that he told Isak that if he couldn’t deal with Even without asking for backup, perhaps he should just give up on Even while he still could. But when Even watched him struggle to explain his helplessness, eyes tearing up after a fierce fight with Even, he didn’t have the heart to begrudge the support that Sonja offered Isak. Sonja told him off herself when she found out about it.

“Stop being fucking egotistical about this. It isn’t about handling you. It’s about Isak handling himself. It isn’t easy to watch the people you love suffer. He needs someone who gets it, someone he can ask advice from, so stop being anal about it,” Sonja had said.

While Sonja wasn’t the most compassionate about Even’s illness, she had been the strongest when it comes to coping with it. He has seen his mum cry so many times that he has lost count. He has even witnessed his dad’s sturdy features crumple before his eyes in a number of mania-fueled occasions. The worst was the day of his attempted suicide. His father had dragged him off the ledge and held onto him with all his might and sobbed so hard, repeating the words, “Please, son. Please. Please,” over and over. He had never seen his father so reduced and helpless before. It took Even months of therapy to get over that guilt.

But Sonja, for a girl so young, she dealt with his illness like she was personally enraged at the world and wanted to prove it wrong. Sure, she said some awful things when she was angry, she got irrationally irritated with him at times, but she was also the first person he called whenever he was in trouble. She was the only person he called when he was arrested after he went wandering naked in the streets after their date in the hotel, leaving Isak flustered and panicking. Because she was resilient in a way none of his friends or family were. She didn’t coddle him the way his parents did, she wasn’t the most understanding, but she had the strength of heart and mind to figure out what needed to be done and she took it in a stride.

Even the day that he had intended to break up with her for Isak, she had merely looked him dead in the eye as he meandered, talking about how lucky anyone would be to have her.

She said coldly, “Get it done with, Even. Don’t insult me with petty compliments. You know me better than that.”

She had used the bathroom right after, came out with red-rimmed eyes but still looking determined, not embarrassed or shattered by his announcement. She picked up her bag, said it’s best that they took a break, and walked out without a scene. That’s the kind of woman she is.

Despite their unsavoury history, he still admires and respects her strength and honesty. Which is why he listens, glad that the universe was kind to her, when she tells him all about her boyfriend, Nils.

“He sounds great,” he says, reflecting if any part of the conversation made him feel odd, what with being her ex and all.

He is grateful when he doesn’t discover any.

“How did you meet him?” he asks.

“Through Isak actually. He threw a party on his dorm floor, all the boys joined in and so many people got invited. And I was talking to Andreas when Nils was introduced to me. They’re best friends, by the way. And--"

He doesn't hear the rest of her story because there it is. The odd, uncomfortable swirl in his gut. Not at the mention of Sonja’s boyfriend, but rather Isak’s. This is what he meant when he told his dad that he misses Sonja once in a while, but the feeling is insignificant when compared to how he misses Isak.

“Hmmm… Easy to double date then,” he remarks.

“We did that like literally once. Isak got drunk and ended up talking to me all night,” she says with a peculiar smirk, like they shared a ludicrous moment.

Even knows he shouldn’t ask. These details don’t concern him; it will only make him seem desperate. He’s going to go home and feel like shit about himself. But he thinks, what the hell? He’s leaving. What’s the worst that could happen?

“What kind of guy is Andreas?”

Sonja glances up at him, a little too knowingly for his liking.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. Just curious.”

“He’s nice. Sweet. Gets along with everyone. Life of the party type of guy.”

“That’s why everyone knows him at the wedding?”

“What do you mean everyone?”

“You know, Yousef. Sana…”

“Just them. And Jonas and Mahdi and Magnus, of course. The boys go to parties together.”

Even feels jealous. That’s what it is. Plain jealousy. He used to party with these very boys. He used to be Isak’s boyfriend. Someone else used to describe Even as the nice guy that Isak dated. Now he isn’t.

“Careful, your face is showing me more than I plan to deal with today,” Sonja warns jokingly.

“Sorry. I’m glad he’s happy.”

“Who? Andreas?” she pokes fun at him.

“Isak. He deserves a nice guy. Sweet, the life of the party... and all that jazz,” he gestures dismissively.

Sonja laughs, a little mean in her mockery.

“Oh wow, Even. For a guy who wants to make movies, you’re really bad at acting. And scripting, for that matter.”

“What?” he asks petulantly, ashamed that he is being called out by Sonja of all people.

“You’re jealous, admit it.”

“I’m not.”

Sonja rolls her eyes. He keeps quiet and breaks the side of the cake into crumbs without attempting to fork it into his mouth.

“They’re not together, dumbass,” she says quietly, looking at him past the rim of the mug as she sips her drink.

He looks up so fast that it’s hard to hide his intentions.

“What?” he asks, throat dry, heart rapidly thumping.

“They’re not in a relationship,” she says easily.

“But—but I saw him in the henna ceremony. They were… holding hands and all.”

“So? You hold Muta’s hand. Does that mean you’re with him?”

 “Yousef said they’re together in uni.”

“Roommates, silly. Friends.”

“But…” Even feels the blooming hope in his chest and suppresses it. “You _just_ said you and Nils were on a double date with them!”

“Yes, back when they tried dating. Isak blew it. Remember I said he got drunk and spoke to me all night?”

Even just stares blankly at her. He can’t begin to comprehend this. How is Andreas not Isak’s boyfriend?

“I’m not getting it.”

She puts down her mug and says, “Isak… he tried, first year in uni. He fooled around with Andreas and a couple of other guys. You know how one night stands work in uni. It's all easy and fun. They were like friends with benefits or whatever. But then things got a little serious with Andreas. When Andreas asked him out, I told him he should try dating him for real. He agreed and bugged me for a double date cause he didn’t want to do it alone. But when we were in the bar, Andreas did something that you used to do… it was stupid, really, just something trivial like pushing Isak’s hair behind his ear or something like that... I don't even remember what it was, but Isak lost it. Drank all night, sat around talking to me about you. Even this and Even fucking that. _What did you do, Sonja? How did you get over him, Sonja? Why doesn't he love me, Sonja?_ ” she pretends to mimic Isak.

When he looks utterly shocked, she continues, “Well, that night went to shits, as you can imagine. Fucked up my date too cause I happened to be having a good time. But Andreas got the point loud and clear. Isak apologised after when he sobered up the next day, tried to fix it, but Andreas isn’t stupid. He didn’t want to get involved, knowing that Isak was not over his ex. Eventually, they became just friends. No sex and whatnot. Just room mates. Andreas has his eyes on someone else now, thank God for him. He deserves someone who's actually into him. Not like sleeping with him to get over other people. That's just shitty.”

“Wait, Isak talked about _me_?” Even asks, still slow on the uptake.

Sonja rolls her eyes. “Duh. What do you expect? I mean, I know you can’t help your mental health issues and all but come on, Even. What you did to the boy isn’t something that anyone can move on from with a few fucks. That was just brutal. You were a lot kinder when you broke up with me and that says something.”

“Now, what the fuck does that mean?!” Even exclaims in shock.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to unfolding this mystery. *rubs hands together wickedly*


	12. the hurricane in our chests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You broke up with him, Even!” she shouts back. “For whatever fucking reason, I’m not judging, but if you didn’t want to deal with the commitment, you could have just said you weren’t ready. He would have understood. Who in their right mind just breaks up and flees the country--”
> 
> “I didn’t want the commitment?! Who the fuck told you that? Isak?"

_“Imagine that the world is made out of love.  
Now imagine that it isn’t.   
Imagine a story where everything goes wrong,   
where everyone has their back against the wall,   
where everyone is in pain and acting selfishly   
because if they don’t, they’ll die.   
Imagine a story, not of good against evil,   
but of need against need against need,   
where everyone is at cross-purposes and   
everyone is to blame.” _   
_― Richard Siken_

 

“Even, lower your voice. People are looking at us.”

“I don’t fucking care! I don’t get it. Jonas called me an asshole, Magnus mentioned something about being bipolar... Fucking Yousef said I didn't care and now you? What the fuck is going on here?”

“You did break up with Isak.”

“BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT HE WANTED! He just wouldn’t fucking say it!”

“What are you…? Even, listen. Let’s get out of here, you’re making a scene.”

Even looks around, chest heaving in anger or what could be an impending panic attack. He can't tell the difference right now. He sees the waiters staring at him, some of the customers too, but he just can’t think straight. He feels like everyone is blaming him for the break up. What did Isak mean by Even not loving him? That is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. He loved Isak more than life itself. Why the hell would be break up of his own volition?

“Get up,” Sonja says sternly. “We’ll talk in the car. Now.”

Even follows her senselessly, but he is still so angry that he wants to shout at the people for staring, just to have some place to release the pent up emotion, but manages to rein it in.

He slams the door when he climbs into the passenger’s seat of her car and yanks the lever aggressively to push his chair back and turns to face her.

“Could you not be so rough with my car?” Sonja asks.

“Sonja…” he mutters through clenched teeth, as he fumes, “What. The. Fuck.”

“ _You_ broke up with him, Even!” she shouts back. “For whatever fucking reason, I’m not judging, but if you didn’t want to deal with the commitment, you could have just said you weren’t ready. He would have understood. Who in their right mind just breaks up and flees the country--”

“ _I_ didn’t want the commitment? Who the fuck told you that? Isak? _I_ loved him, Sonja. I wasn’t the one who gave up on us. I broke up with him cause he was just stuck. He was so unhappy cause he didn’t want to be the bad guy. He was just like you!”

"Don't fucking bring me up in this. I tried to make it work with you. You're the one who was cheating on me," Sonja warns.

"I know, alright? It's my fault... with you, yes. I know. But you were unhappy for a long fucking time, even before the whole thing with Mikael. You're gonna deny that? And Isak was-- he was just like that. I wasn't-- I couldn't live with myself knowing he wasn't happy and still keeping him with me just cause he was afraid I'd go fucking insane or something. It was just pity that made him stay."

“Huh?! He proposed to you! How the fuck is that --? He wasn’t doing it out of pity, you asshole.”

“Prop—what?  What do you mean proposed?”

Sonja rolls her eyes so hard that her head moves along with how dramatically irritated she is.

“Whatever, fuck it. None of my business. Act dumb all you want. I’ll just drop you home,” she says, starting the car.

He catches her hand before she shifts the gear, “What do you mean proposed, Sonja? Like marriage?”

“He asked you to marry him, didn’t he? And you broke up over that.”

“Sonja, he didn’t!” Even responds, scandalised by the blatant lie.

“He told me he did.”

“He’s lying then. Jesus! What the fuck, Sonja? You don’t think I’d remember if he did?”

“But he said… he told me, Even. It’s not like him to lie.”

“Is it not? You know him over a few drinks and now what? You know him better than me? You’re the judge of his character?” Even asks, blinded by his resentment.

He’s thinking about the time that Isak said one thing to Eva and another to Jonas to break them up. He knows Isak felt guilty about it for the longest time. He gets it, they've both done horrible things before. He doesn’t think Isak meant any harm to Even by telling Sonja and most likely, Jonas and the gang that he had proposed.  It’s probably not on purpose. He probably just needed someone else to take the blame for this and since Even left the country for good, it was convenient. Maybe that’s why Isak looked upset when he told him that Jonas called him an asshole. He feels queasy just thinking about it. Even is furious. It doesn’t matter what Isak was trying to do but it isn’t fair, lying about a marriage proposal. He tells Sonja just as much.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Even,” Sonja answers warily.

“I know who might.” When she turns to look at him, he says, “Sana. She must know something. She told him I was coming to the wedding with a date. Why would she tell him that?”

“No. No, nope. It’s the day after her wedding. We are not making a mess of this in her place. I’m dropping you back home.”

“I’ll lose my fucking mind if you drop me home right now!”

“What do you want me to do, Even? I don’t--”

“You know where Isak lives. Bring me there,” he says, having had the thought pop in his head all of a sudden.

“We can’t just show up at his place like that. That’s not—it’s inconsiderate. I’m not doing it. Especially not when you’re so worked up.”

“Then call him, fuck! I don’t care! Tell him I need to talk to him.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Sonja mutters as she reaches into her bag to retrieve her phone.

She pulls out a pack of cigarette instead and lights it up. As she lowers the windows, Even snatches it from her fingers and takes a few puffs himself. He quit smoking for years now. Not even weed. But he thinks this occasion cancels out that policy. As she dials, she tells him to keep quiet and stay calm, looking at how his fingers tremble with the bitter emotions he’s holding in.

“Put it on loudspeaker.”

“No,” says Sonja only to have Even snatch her phone and turn on the speaker.

“Even what the—“

“Hello?” comes Isak voice just as she was about to tell Even off.

She glares at him and answers, “Hey, Isak. You home?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Is Andreas home?”

“No. He’s at Nils. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, Nils did. I just thought you’d be there too.”

“Didn’t feel like playing video games today.”

Even glares at her and nudges her, signalling that she should cut to the chase.

“Hmmm… Listen, Even’s with me and he wants to talk to you.”

There is a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

“Why?”

“Can we just come over for a while?”

“What does he want to talk about?” Isak questions.

“Just… I think you guys need to sort something out. About the way things ended between you two? Maybe it’s best if we come to your place?”

“I don’t think that’s a smart idea, Sonja,” he says, voice losing all warmth.

Even loses it and butts in, “We don’t have the luxury of smart ideas right now. We need to talk. I’m coming over.”

“Even, what did I say?” Sonja hisses.

“Am I on fucking loudspeaker?” Isak’s voice rises a pitch.

“Yes, I’m sorry—“ Sonja starts only to be interrupted by Isak.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about.”

“Maybe about how you lied to everyone about wanting to marry me?” Even raises his voice.

“What the—“

Before Isak could complete the sentence, Sonja turns off the loudspeaker, puts the phone to her ear and says, “Isak, Isak, listen. It’s just you and me now, not on speaker... stop.  We’re not—I don’t think—Listen, Isak! I don’t think we should be doing this over the phone. Let us just come over, Isak. Please.”

He must have agreed because she says thanks, puts down the phone, grabs the cigarette from Even’s hand and smokes a few desperate puffs before dropping it into the lukewarm remnants of her caramel macchiato.

“You. You’re gonna calm the fuck down before we get there. I don’t want you walking in, guns blazing okay? We’re gonna act like fucking adults and talk this out. Do you understand?” Sonja demands.

Even turns away, looking outside the window, body tense with irritation.

“Why do I even fucking try?” she asks rhetorically and drives to Isak’s place.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah 3 chapters a day would be fun if I didn't also have work to finish. I'm exhausted already. Hopefully I'll find some time tomorrow to write the confrontation. Please let me know your thoughts on this. <3


	13. if anybody could have saved me, it would have been you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to run because he knows, alright? He’s not stupid. He knows nothing good will come out of this. He will shout at Isak, and Isak will shout at him. Eventually, Isak will tell him the truth.
> 
> Like "I didn’t fucking love you anymore, okay?"
> 
> Like "My life with you turned into this miserable nightmare that I couldn’t fucking escape from just cause you’re sick. I'll be the bad guy if I said I couldn't stay anymore. Nobody gets how hard it is to be with you."
> 
> Like "I regret ever staying with you, Even. That’s the truth. You happy now? I didn’t want to say that to our friends, so I lied. For both our sakes. Is that what you want to hear? Now, get out, will you?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SO SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU GUYS AT AN INTENSE CLIFFHANGER. These past two weeks, I have been sick and it has been horrible. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Thank you for being so patient. They're finally meeting again in this chapter.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AknGL_3GgQ  
> Song for this chapter

"We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget.  
We forget the loves and the betrayals alike,  
forget what we whispered and what we screamed,  
forget who we were."   
—  **Joan Didion**

When Sonja and Even get to the front door where Isak lives, a part of Even – a really big part, if he were to be honest with himself- has the strongest impulse to run. He feels his knees twitch as Sonja knocks on the door. He wants to run because he knows, alright? He’s not stupid. He knows nothing good will come out of this. He will shout at Isak, and Isak will shout at him. Eventually, Isak will tell him the truth.

Like _I didn’t fucking love you anymore, okay?_

Like _my life with you turned into this miserable nightmare that I couldn’t fucking escape from just cause you’re sick. I'll be the bad guy if I said I couldn't stay anymore. Nobody gets how hard it is to be with you._

Like _I regret ever staying with you, Even. That’s the truth. You happy now? I didn’t want to say that to our friends, so I lied. For both our sakes. Is that what you want to hear? Now, get out, will you?!_

Something so indescribably, unutterably ugly that Even would have to helplessly watch as his heart dies and he will never again be a person. He will be a husk, a ghost, a reminder of a life that withered. He will never be the same.

In that instance when Sonja turns to look at him and mouths, _Calm down_ , he feels a surge of fear so intense, similar to the time he woke up in his childhood bedroom after a depressive episode all by himself, Isak having left him as requested without any of his usual insistence, and he knows. This is one of such moments; this will finally break him.

Just as he is about to tell Sonja that they should leave, Isak opens the door with force strong enough that it rattles. And he fixes his glare at Even, anger in his eyes akin to loathing, and mutters through his clenched teeth, “What the fuck did you say to me? Huh? What the EVERLOVING FUCK?!”

And just like that, Even feels his defences rise up again and he resents Isak. He absolutely hates Isak, he thinks. Right now, he hates Isak and hates himself and hates everyone and everything that has led them here. He spent years, without his own knowledge or consent, pining after this boy all the way in London, carrying memories of him and promises they’ve made and plans they haven’t embarked on like a talisman. He spoke about this boy for hours with Rahima, cried over him. In his mind, Isak was always the best and the worst thing to happen to him. But he had never regretted having him for however many years he could. God, he loved this boy so much. The saddest part of it is that he thinks he might never quit loving him in his head. But all he has left to show for his efforts are the lies that Isak told everyone. Right now, he can’t recall what was good anymore. He’s just seething in anger and lashes out the same way a wounded animal would in fear.

“I called you a liar, you sick fuck!”

He instinctively feels the tremor that runs through Isak's frame before he sees the rage that lights Isak’s eyes. Isak pushes off the door and almost launches at him but Sonja throws herself between them screaming, “Boys! Boys, boys, come on! Fucking hell!, Get in, Isak. Let us in!”

And Even thinks to himself, _Good. Now you know how it feels, asshole._

He has seen Isak angry so many times that he has lost count. Isak had a real temper issue when they first got together. But only once before had Isak directed it at Even, what with throwing a beer bottle at the wall behind him. Even then, he had seen shock in Isak’s face and the devastating remorse that followed right after, as though he couldn’t fathom what he did. He looked at Even, helpless and scared after that fiasco, as though his own body was betraying him and he had no control. The aftermath of that was when Isak agreed to get help.

But this time, Isak’s face remains resentful, his nostrils flaring and the side of his lips twitching as he holds in his words when Sonja pushes him in.

Even follows behind and closes the door. Before Isak could say something about that, Sonja resolutely pushes him back until he lands ungracefully on the couch and warns, “Isak. Stop! Just wait this out. I’m making tea. Even, sit the fuck over there…” she points at the dining table, quite far from where Isak is seated, running his hands over his hair.

“I’m going to make tea and the two of you are going to be quiet until then. You’re going to think of what to say, instead of insulting each other and shouting at the top of your lungs. Then you’re going to talk this out calmly, and at any point that this gets ugly, Even, you’re gonna walk the fuck out of here and go back to London or whatever and we can all put this behind us. Do I make myself clear?” she instructs condescendingly as though she is talking to 6 year olds.

Isak just grabs the cap that was next to him on the couch and flings it against the door that Even closed not a while ago. Then, he gets up and walks past Even like he doesn’t exist, walks into what looks like a bathroom and slams the door. Even just sits on the stool, staring at the groove of the table as Sonja busies herself in the kitchen.

She comes back before Isak does, places tea in front of him and says, “Even, we can’t _all_ be angry, all right? You know how he is, you have to be patient right now. You wanted to talk so you got to--”

“I have a right to be angry. Even more so than he does.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, okay? He told me one thing, you’re telling me another. So, I really can’t—I just, I’m not dealing with this. You have to deal with this yourself.”

“What? Sonja--”

Just then Isak walks out of the bathroom, eyes rimmed red, still looking angry but more subdued and flops on the couch.

Sonja passes him the tea and says, “Okay, then...I’ll leave you boys to it.”

“What--”

“No—“

“You need to—“

Isak and Even talk over each other at the same time.

“No, I don’t! I don’t need to do shit! Even, you’re my ex. And Isak, you’re the guy he cheated on me with. So no, fuck no. I’m friends with both of you but I need to take care of myself and this isn’t healthy for me. I’ve done what I could. Now you deal with each other like fucking adults for God’s sake.”

Even shuts his mouth and looks away. She’s right. He lives in his own solipsistic world and sometimes, he forgets. She may not have been in love with him anymore when he left her, but he knows that his affair with Isak had harmed the way she viewed herself for quite a while. He knows that she had to process years of a stormy relationship with a boy she thought she will be with for the rest of her life, despite his brokenness, all by herself while he was publicly out of the closet, deeply in love with Isak and just so fucking happy for once in his life. It wasn’t the best of times for her.

He just nods, not looking up and he hears Isak sigh in frustration.

“I’m going to Nils. Even, take a cab home when-- when all this is done. Isak, don’t… I don’t know. Don’t throw things at him? No physical trauma on top of everything else, please.”

With that, she walks out of the house, leaving behind coldness and silence and renewed heartache in her wake.

*****

They have been quietly ignoring each other for what feels like eternity for Even, although it’s probably just two minutes or so. Isak clicks away on his phone like he is playing a game or chatting with someone, his face tight and indifferent to Even. Even feels so out of place and uncomfortable that he thinks none of this is worth his time. What does it matter? So Isak lied, made Even the bad guy. Why does he care anymore? He’s leaving in a few days. Maybe it’s better to not know.

He places the tea that he hasn’t touched on the kitchen counter and strides towards the door, deciding not to get into it with Isak.

Just as he reaches the door, he hears Isak scoff and mumble under his breath, “Of course, run away like you always do. Fucking coward."

Even turns around to see him still intently staring at his phone and the familiar surge of anger rises in his throat again.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“I don’t run at the first sight of trouble. That's all you,” Isak says, lowering his phone and pointing his finger accusingly.

“Yeah, no, you just lie your way out of it. Not cowardly at all,” Even shrugs sarcastically.

“I. Am not. Fucking. Lying,” Isak’s eyebrows lower as his face flushes impossibly red.

“You told everyone you asked me to marry you and I left you because what—I was afraid of commitment?”

“Well, aren’t you?!”

“No! Not with you, no!” Even's clenched fists tremble at his side as he finds himself swallowing the lump in his throat.

“If you had asked, I would have said… fuck—I would have said yes,” he finishes hoarsely, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes quickly.

“Then why didn’t you?! You crumpled and threw away my proposal, you broke up with me and you didn’t fucking talk to me for th—f- … whole days and you left without a word… ju--just up and left me. Went to London. Didn’t call, didn’t text, hell, you didn’t care whether I lived or died, so don’t pretend—all just… you give a shit now?“

Even is so taken aback as he watches Isak talk at bullet speed, his voice cracking so much that it sometimes sounds unintelligible and he’s lost. His heart is pounding so rapidly that he feels nauseous and disoriented, stuck on Isak’s words.

“What--?” he swallows as he finds his mouth salivating like he is about to vomit right where he’s standing.

He leans against the door for support and tries again, “What do you mean…I threw away your…? I—I don’t recall ever receiving any.”

At this, Isak stands up and walks into his room, dismissing Even. But he couldn’t fucking move and get out now. Even needs to know. He feels like death, rocking on his feet as he tries to breathe deeply enough to fight the nausea. He keeps his eyes closed, the world spins around him.

Then he hears the thud as something metallic rolls on the hardwood floor and he looks down to find the ring that Isak apparently flung at his foot.

Isak also throws a napkin at him, crumpled and stained, torn in the middle. The last thing he flings is a book and papers fly out of the pages at it hits the door beside Even’s feet. One paper that slips out of it is still pristine, despite the browning of time while the other is just a pulp. Some pieces of the pulp detach and flutter through the air in small shreds like snow.

Isak says coldly, “There you go. Now get the fuck out!”

Even bends down and picks up the ring first before he turns the crumpled napkin, pushes the torn edges together in the middle and sees the words in faded black ink that has bled to form thick, jagged lines.

> _Even, the man of my dreams, will you marry me, babe?_ :)

He kneels across the hardwood floor as he urgently scrabbles at the book next, lying face up, spread against the floor. _P/S I love you._

He looks up at Isak desperately, remembering the book that Isak had offered on the very last day, insisting that it’s Even’s. But Isak is currently seated, bent on the couch with his elbows propped against his knees, propping his head on the heel of his palms, sniffling quietly.

“Isak…” he says, voice raw, but the younger boy doesn’t spare him a glance.

Even picks up the brown paper, written in blue pen in Isak’s handwriting, neater than usual, and he reads the words,

> _Even, I’m sorry I proposed. I guess it wasn’t as pleasant a surprise as I thought it would be. I’m stupid like that. It’s okay if you don’t want to get married. It’s fine, really. You still are and will always be the man of my dreams. We can keep going like this, together in this apartment until you are ready. We are still young after all. Or we don’t have to. We don’t have to get married ever if you don’t like the idea. I’m cool with that, babe. I just want to be with you is all. I get that I freaked you out. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. Please don’t leave just because of that. I won’t ever bring it up again, I promise._
> 
> _It’s just that I’m always afraid that if something happens to you, I’m not the first person who gets the call. I’m not your family technically, even if you are the most important and closest person to me. The hospital or the cops or whoever won’t acknowledge that, Even. I’m always lost as to what’s happening to you until your mother calls me. It happened before when you got detained, and it happened again when you were in the hospital. I just thought if we got married, then I’ll finally, legally be yours. I won’t have to wait for visiting hours when you’re in the hospital.  But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too, love. We’ll do it your way._
> 
> _And I guess there are other stuff that I do that annoys you. Things haven’t been the same between us. We’ve both been so busy with work and all, and I know I’m not fair to you. You take care of the house all by yourself. I’ll do my part, I’ll take care of the chores. No more dirty dishes in the sink, I swear. I’m sorry for not being considerate. I’ll do better._
> 
> _It’s just that it’s silly to break up over this, Even. I get it that you need your space, so go ahead and take the time you need. I know I can be overbearing, I'm working on it, babe. I’m learning to let you go when you ask. It’s tough, I still screw up. Like that time you told me you didn’t want me staying with you when you were depressed, but I ended up sleeping in your mother’s guest room that night anyway. I didn’t apologise to you for that. It was stupid of me to ask your mother to lie to you. But I left the very next morning when I realised how annoyed you’d get if you woke up in the morning and still saw me there. But I guess you found out anyway. I should have said something when you got home but you were so quiet and I was afraid that if I said anything, you’d get angrier at me. I promise to never pull that kind of dick move ever again, okay? I will not impose on you anymore._
> 
> _So, I’m asking you. I’m begging of you. Don't make rash decisions. And stop packing the whole house up, you’re scaring me. This isn't like permanent, okay? Go back to your mum’s if you need to, but when you’re ready, let’s just try again, please? I love you the most and I love you forever._
> 
> _Isak_

And that’s what tips Even over, hurtling helplessly into a panic attack, gasping as tears stain the letter in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. I'm writing the next chapter right now. Until then, tell me what you think about this.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AknGL_3GgQ  
> Song for this chapter


	14. for now I am winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He chants in time with the ticking of the seconds, I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die...
> 
> Isak breaks the silence when he snorts and says, “Sounds like running away again.”

“Of course I’ll hurt you.  
Of course you’ll hurt me.  
Of course we will hurt each other.  
But this is the very condition of existence.  
To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter.  
To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.”  
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Manon, Ballerina

Even sits with his head against the door, gasping for air, worrying about his sweaty, clammy hands that he can’t seem to detach from the letter, just trying to breathe through the pain in his chest. The more he tries to rein in his panic, the harder it gets to breathe. He slams his head against the door a few times in desperation and then he slumps forward, heaving.

He doesn’t resurface for a long time and when he does, it’s with Isak kneeling opposite him, hands holding his shoulders tight so he doesn’t keel over, and counting breaths with him.

The thought of looking so helpless in front of Isak almost tips him over again but he hears Isak say, “Ssshh… ssshhh… breathe with me. Breathe in 3, 4, 5, 6, hold it, 2, 3, 4, breath out, 3, 4, 5, 6…”

He listens to Isak’s strained voice, focuses on his grip and breathes. Eventually, he has calmed down enough and Isak lets go. The rush of cool air against his skin where Isak was holding him for some time makes Even tremble. It hurts so much, he just wants to curl into himself and disappear.

Isak comes back with warm chamomile tea, places the mug under Even’s feet and sits next to him, back against the wall, with enough distance between them that Even gets the point loud and clear. Nothing has changed. No forgiveness, no friendly feelings. Isak helped Even in a moment of panic is all. No meaning to be construed here.

They sit like that for an hour as Even watches the minute hand of the clock tick by so slowly. He chants in his head, as he does whenever he’s afraid to be left alone with his thoughts.

He chants in time with the ticking of the seconds, _I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die... I wish… to God… I die..._

Isak breaks the silence when he snorts and says, “Sounds like running away again.”

“What?” Even startles, voice hoarse from disuse.

“I wish to God I die?” Isak says, one eyebrow raised, half amused and half irritated.

“Did I—“ he clears his throat, “Didn’t realise I said it out loud.”

"Whispered," Isak grabs the empty mug on the floor and goes to place it in the sink. Even watches as Isak arranges the tea bags into a Tupperware and puts it in a drawer. 

When the silence stretches again, Even says softly, “I didn’t know… about the letter. Or the ring.”

He sees Isak’s shoulders tense but the younger boy shows no other signs of acknowledgement.

“I swear, Isak, I didn’t—I have never seen this. Until today.”

“I left it in the bowl that you made Mac n’ Cheese in. When you told me it’s over and just left the room... I found the box with the ring toppled over in the cabinet and the napkin crumpled in the trash. What was I to make of it?”

“Why didn’t you just… ask me?”

“About what? To marry me or why you didn’t want to?” Isak huffs, leaning his palm on both sides of the sink and hanging his head.

“Either? Both. I—I didn’t notice anything. I probably just cooked mindlessly.”

“Yeah, I guessed that much, seeing you panic like that earlier.”

“Fuck, Isak, why didn’t you just ask me?!”

“Because I’m not like you, okay?! You’re like the-- the king of cheesy romance or some shit! You always knew what to say and what to do. I sucked at it! I wanted it to be romantic. I planned a date for the week in a rented art gallery. Got them to let me hang stuff in there. Jonas helped me and all. I was going to ask you…”

“But you didn’t!”

“You came home from work looking like you were fucking done with the world! I was afraid you were going to have another episode. I thought it would be cute with the napkin…like how we write on the napkins whenever we went out. I  didn’t think you wouldn’t see it. It was right inside the bowl!”

“Fucking hell, Isak--”

Isak turns around and gestures wildly, “Well, you can sit the fuck there and blame me all you want but I wasn’t the one who broke up with you! You left me and now you wanna get all righteous with me!”

“I suggested it! I suggested it because I thought -- I wanted you to fight back! I wanted you to finally fucking LOOK AT ME FOR ONCE!” Even is shocked by the sound of his own voice.

He doesn’t think he has ever shouted so loud in his life. He feels the sting in his throat and his eyes and he sees the way Isak flinches like he flung something at him. And if nothing else got him sobbing before, the sound of his pathetic, sorrowful desperation would have. He feels the tears streaming down his face so much so that he can’t see Isak clearly, not matter how many times he swipes at his eyes.

“I just… I thought you di-- didn’t love me anymore,“ he speaks through the convulsive catching of his breath. “You stopped telling me things, you were either always at work or out with your friends or—or watching TV. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me. I was your depressed, dead weight boyfriend that you had to suffer with simply because you didn't have the heart to break up with me first."

"When did I ever say--?"

"You didn’t even try to make love to me anymore! You--you left me at my mum’s for a whole fucking month, Isak. For a month! I missed you every day, I even considered killing m-- I don't know... I thought—“ he sighs as he feels his chest heave again. “I thought you wanted to get rid of me. I just wanted to make it easy for you,” he finishes quietly.

Isak is silent for a beat before he says, “You fucking… God, you’re an idiot.”

Even rests his head against his palms and breathes haggardly.

“How can I—Fuck, Even. I loved you more than anything. I don't know what to tell you. You were so wrong. Just... so wrong.”

Even feels tears dripping down his chin and he can’t care about dignity anymore. He lets go. It hurts everywhere so he just cries.

When he looks up after a long while, he sees Isak still leaning against the sink, face flushed red like he has been crying too.

“How did we screw up like this?” Even asks.

“I don’t know…” Isak looks over, his eyes no longer hard with anger but only sorrow. “It doesn’t matter, I guess.”

Even, fuelled by the sudden tenderness he feels for the boy, stands up, wobbling slightly to walk towards him, but Isak says, “Well, I guess there’s that. We fucked up, we talked about it, it’s done.”

Isak sighs, turns around and washes his face in the sink and says, “I’ll call you a cab.”

He walks to his room, wiping his wet face with his t-shirt while pulling it off. Even feels dreadfully anxious. He doesn’t want this moment to end. As painful as it is, he doesn’t want to lose sight of Isak now. He can’t be alone. He retrieves his phone from his pocket, thinking of calling Sonja or Rahima or someone who can tell him what to do. Isak comes out of the room in a clean t-shirt and holds out a towel at Even.

“You can wash your face in the bathroom or take a shower or whatever. I’ll call the cab after.”

Even locks himself in the bathroom, hoping he can make hours go by like that. He sees his worn face in the mirror, eyes swollen, nose and cheeks spotted red, and he feels like he wants to cry again. He steps into the hot shower and lets it wash over him. He thinks of a time when Even and Isak used to shower together like this, the good days, the bad ones especially, shampooing each other’s hair, Isak holding him up when he was depressed and hasn’t showered in days. He thought he was grateful to Isak then, he thought he could never love him more than he did at that moment; he had no idea.

The way he felt about Isak… the way he still feels about Isak, it’s not always happiness or gratitude or contentment with the other’s presence. Even has never truly been peaceful in his own head for that, but goddamnit, he has never _not_ loved him. Now that it’s so ugly and wasted even, he still feels for him so deeply that it scares him.

When he turns off the tap, he hears Isak knock on the door, “Want me to make the call?”

“No, I'll do it,” Even says, the disappointment bitter in his mouth.

He walks out of the bathroom, sees Isak sitting on the couch, chewing on a gummi bear as he types away in his phone.

Even looks down at his own phone, about to make the call, when he had the wildest thought. He sends a message instead. He knows that the likelihood of Isak still using his old number is slim to none. He opens the chat box under Isak’s old number. He’s glad that he deleted the message thread when he left the country. He can’t imagine opening up their old messages now, in this situation. He’d fall apart all over again. He doesn’t know if Isak will receive the message but he figures he’ll try anyway and leave it up to fate.

 

> _Please don’t make me leave, Isak._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on the next chapter. Hit me up with your thoughts on this.


	15. you hold life like a face between your palms

"to love life, to love it even  
when you have no stomach for it  
and everything you've held dear  
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,  
your throat filled with the silt of it.  
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat  
thickening the air, heavy as water  
more fit for gills than lungs;  
when grief weights you like your own flesh  
only more of it, an obesity of grief,  
you think, How can a body withstand this?  
Then you hold life like a face  
between your palms, a plain face,  
no charming smile, no violet eyes,  
and you say, yes, I will take you  
I will love you, again."   
—  **Ellen Bass**

 

He thinks he sees Isak’s phone vibrate but Isak doesn’t seem to react, doesn’t look up. So, it’s most probably not his text. Isak must have changed his number. His hope comes crashing down and he is all long limbed awkwardness, staring at Isak, trying to commit him to memory. He starts dialling the number for the cab services when he gets a new message.

_Isak: not sure if its a good idea_

Even’s mouth goes dry and his heart thumps with renewed vigour as he reads Isak’s name over and over again, convincing himself that it’s real. He looks up to catch Isak’s gaze but the younger boy avoids it, as though he is oblivious when he’s clearly not.

_Even: Will you hate me if I say we're way past that?_

_Isak: maybe_

Even thinks he might as well be honest now, in case he never gets another chance.

_Even: I want to stay tonight, Isak._

_Even: If you don’t want me to, I’ll leave._

_Even: But I want you to know._

_Isak: know wat_

_Isak: that u’d rather sleep on my ratty old couch than ur own bed?_

Even looks up, catches the slight lift of Isak’s mouth, a ghost of a smile. Eyes still fixed on his phone. Even picks his phone up and types away.

_Even: That I'll sleep on the floor for the rest of my life for what I did to you._

_Even: And that I love you._

_Even: Never stopped, really._

_Even: All these years and you still got me._

_Even: Does saying that make me an asshole?_

_Even: I'm so sorry that I didn't speak to you about us when I should have. I was so fucking afraid. You're right. I'm a coward._

_Even: I thought at first that if I waited it out, everything will resolve itself. You'll talk to me eventually when you were ready._

_Even: I was stupid. It just made things worse. You just got quieter around me and I got more fucked up._

_Even: I'm not expecting this to change anything now. But I just thought you should know, I could never **not** love you. You were the best thing to ever happen to me. And it kills me to hear that you thought I didn't care. Or that I don't.  _

_Even: Staying home with my parents after moving out from the apartment, without you there, it was so fucking hard. I lost my mind. I kept expecting you to walk in at any moment. I dreamt of you every time I slept._

_Even: I asked my dad if you called so frequently, he thought I was gone for good. The family counselor suggested a change in environment to my parents. My dad applied to London for me. He was afraid I was getting suicidal again. So, I left. I didn't want my parents worrying about me anymore. I hated myself enough without seeing my mother cry all the time._

_Even:  For what it's worth, if I only knew, Isak... If I had the slightest clue that you proposed... I would have married you in a heartbeat._

_Even: I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that I hurt you._

This time, when Even looks up, he finds Isak staring at him, slack jawed. The younger boy flinches when he realises that he has been caught and types away at his phone again.

_Isak: u’ll regret this in the morning_

Even starts to type but decides against it and says, “No.”

He walks over to where Isak is seated on the couch, sits on the coffee table right opposite him, forcing Isak to look at him. He feels the tears well again when Isak’s eyes land on him.

“I’ve never regretted you. Despite it all. I don't want you thinking that.”

Isak’s jaws work as he sifts through his emotions.

“Listen, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave right now. But I need to hear it from you. Not what you _think_ I’d want or feel. The last time we tried that, we ended up here. So, no more guessing games. It has to come from you.”

Isak opens his mouth, almost forming words, but closes it abruptly. He picks up his phone again with a huff and Even sees the three dots on his phone, signalling that Isak is typing. Even blocks the phone in Isak’s hands and pushes it down, forcing the younger boy’s gaze back on him.

“I need to hear it, Isak. For once, _talk_ to me. I’m right here.”

Isak looks more lost than ever. He strokes the nape of his neck as he looks away.

“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. Just tell me what’s going on in your head. I can handle it,” Even coaxes him, hand still against Isak’s where he’s holding his phone.

“Do you want me to go?” Even asks, despite his disappointment.

As always, he’ll offer Isak an easy way out if the younger boy remains silent. It has been the dynamics of their relationship for years. Even used to be the talker. Isak found other ways because words weren't his forte. They've had so many arguments before but for years, Even talked things out. And the one time he didn't, everything went to shits. Now, dead center in the aftermath of this hell he created, he can't imagine why he didn't. He was so consumed by the vicious voice in his head that said he wasn't worthy of a boy like Isak that it had silenced him too. It's one thing that he had to break his back, carrying this grief for years, feeling hollowed out and numb, floating through life with distractions. But he can't forgive himself for hurting Isak in the process.

"Isak..." he sighs when the other boy remains stoic, gaze averted. He removes his hand, gesturing that Isak can type if he wants.

But Isak doesn't move his hand. He just fidgets in his seat. Even waits it out, but the boy seems to show no signs of wanting to speak.

"It's okay...  Maybe this isn't the best time for this. It's not fair for me to ask that of you. I'll go, alright?"

He squeezes Isak's shoulder gently to reassure him. He is halfway to standing, removing himself from the coffee table when Isak still refuses to look at him, but just as he turns away, feeling let down, Isak’s hand grasps him.

Isak shakes his head once resolutely, still not looking at Even.

“I’m not sure… what to make of it,” Even says, squashing down the blooming hope.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Even sits again slowly, his face opening up, smiling at Isak.

“What do you want then? Hmmm?” Even asks, looking down at where Isak is holding his wrist.

Isak says nothing. 

"Isak, I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to allow me to stay or anythi--"

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Isak hisses and drags Even towards him, pressing his lips against Even's urgently.

Even is surprised by his own broken whimper. He’d be embarrassed any other day but today, he’s just grateful. So fucking grateful that he gets to be kissed by Isak one more time.

Before their break up, Even would pass his day counting the number of times Isak pecks him on the lips or cheek because he missed Isak even when he was around. He had it in his head that Isak didn’t particularly desire him anymore, that he kissed like it’s an obligation. One in the morning, one before and after work, one before bed. He didn't comment on it, not wanting to force himself on the boy, especially when he was under the impression that Isak was falling out of love with him. But when Isak kissed him before sleep, Even would let himself drift closer, leaning in with more of his weight, with more desperation, and he’d kiss Isak like he means to, like he has missed him all day. And Isak would reciprocate and for a moment, Even would think he has gotten Isak back. But eventually, he’d feel Isak stifle a yawn and Even would break away, giving him an out. When Even feels lonelier than usual, lying in the dark with Isak, he’d lean in and steal a kiss when the boy is asleep. Then, he’d feel cheap about it, pathetic. He’d turn over and stare at the wall, hoping sleep gets him before his ugly thoughts do.

To think that Isak loved him all along, it makes him want to throw himself off a building for being so stupid. But Isak pulls him away from his thoughts as he sucks on Even’s bottom lip, running his tongue over it after lightly biting it. Even moans and runs his hand across Isak’s left jaw, feeling the light stubble there, and God, he missed this so much.

Isak lets go of his wrist, pulls at Even’s collars with both hands until Even has to dislodge from the coffee table. He keeps yanking until Even is on top of Isak, the latter lying flat on his back on the couch, kissing Even’s neck.

“Wait…” Even breathes out. “Wait. Are you sure?”

Isak doesn't say anything, his hair tickling the sensitive spot on Even’s neck, unwilling to move away for too long, but Even grabs hold of Isak’s hand against his collar, his other hand cupping Isak’s face until the boy looks him in the eye.

“Isak, are you sure this is what you want?”

“Jesus Christ, Even. I want you now, okay?” he pants, exasperated.

When he sees Even stare at him, still computing in his head, Isak adds, “I don’t know what’s happening between us.”

“I don’t either.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be here in the morning, fuck, I don’t know if you’ll be here the next hour, but if this is the last time I ever see you… I just—I don’t want to—I’ll die if you stop right now.”

Even’s heart skips a beat and he wraps his arms around Isak, pulls the younger boy up with him in a sitting position until they’re chest to chest, cups his face tenderly and kisses the very breath out of him. He thinks he’ll die too if he stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeee so it's finally happening. :D So much to fix still but we're getting somewhere.


	16. we will always rebuild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funny how two years ago, this was an everyday sight, sleeping and waking up next to Isak. He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to that regularity again. He accidentally drifts asleep for what could have been a few minutes before startling himself awake. Isak groans and turns over in his sleep, back to Isak. And it really shouldn’t hurt, the boy isn’t even awake. But Even has long given up lying to himself about pain, regardless of how irrational it may seem. He watches Isak’s back and thinks, I hope this isn’t the last thing I remember of you.

“There is not enough air in the room but you are breathing.  
There is nobody here but you are held.  
You have broken and the world is breaking   
and we will always rebuild.  
Do you hear me, love?  
We will always rebuild.”   
― Jeanette LeBlanc

 

Even has been keeping himself awake for more than four hours now. He watches as Isak drifts in and out of sleep, paying attention to his breath and the flutter of his lashes and his sleepy sighs. He replays the moments with Isak over and over in his mind, thumbing through the memory to make certain that it happened after all. Isak licking a path across his collarbone, pressing a lingering kiss on his sternum, how he nibbled on Even’s finger before leaving a wet kiss on his palm. The way Isak trembled in his arms when Even carried him to bed, how he nuzzled Even’s cheek when the older boy reached between them.  The echoes of excitement and the mad tenderness he felt for the boy still ripple through his body like ghost sensations, reminding him that he’s here and this is real.

He’s afraid to sleep. He is one of those inherently undone people who, by birth, are subjected to the foreboding impulse of chasing time. He is constantly anxious about losing moments, wasting light, particularly after being diagnosed with bipolar. He imagines his mind and body as a ticking time bomb; very soon, he will no longer have the sanity or ability to savour life’s normalcy. He will be gone, either lost in the vast expanse of his mind, unable to reconnect with the world, stuck in a perpetual state of oblivion, or he’ll be dead. Either way, gone.

But in all these years of eluding sleep, never has he been this terrified to doze off, despite of how easily the tide of sleep washes over him. He observes the columns of light flitting across the ceiling as cars ride by, the occasional flash of Isak’s phone on the table when he receives a social media notification, the sound of the night gently unfolding outside the window, such an ordinary scene for the unknowing eyes. The night goes on without any consideration for the day that he has had, so heavy and so light at the same time.

Isak rests on his back while Even lays sideways, staring at his profile as the streetlight creeps into the room. He wants to touch, wants to caress his cheek, but he is not sure what the boundaries are still. They made out after sex but eventually, Isak had moved away and fallen asleep. He's not sure if it was only sex for Isak, a closure. A part of Even is consciously holding the thought at bay because he can’t afford to jump to any more conclusions. He hasn’t been all that good at deducing Isak’s intentions. He moves his head so that he is sharing a pillow with Isak, staring at the tiny movement across his face as he breathes, but still far enough so as to not touch the younger boy and accidentally wake him. If this is the last night that he ever gets to spend with Isak, he’s going to spend every second of it, retracing this very moment.

Funny how two years ago, this was an everyday sight, sleeping and waking up next to Isak. He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to that regularity again. He accidentally drifts asleep for what could have been a few minutes before startling himself awake. Isak groans and turns over in his sleep, back to Isak. And it really shouldn’t hurt, the boy isn’t even awake. But Even has long given up lying to himself about pain, regardless of how irrational it may seem. He watches Isak’s back and thinks, _I hope this isn’t the last thing I remember of you._

*****

Even walks around the block of Isak’s apartment, looking for food. He buys pancakes and bread from the first eatery he sees. He’s not hungry, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself. As he walks, he calls Rahima. She doesn’t pick up the first time around but as he places his order, he receives a call from her.

His answer to her greeting is: “I slept with Isak last night.”

It takes her a few minutes, fumbling with the idea and he tells her everything. From his meeting with Sonja, the loud accusations in Isak’s apartment, the sobbing, the sex, the long wait… For some reason, he expects her to be happy for him. To be relieved. To be... something. She is only silent.

“You there?” he says, walking out of the place with a brown bag of food, and perches on the small bench on the sidewalk.

“Yes. I’m here.”

“So…”

“So… I don’t—don’t know what to say. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know either.”

“Are you happy?”

“I feel like I should be?” he asks.

“But you’re not?”

“I am. I guess I am. I’m happy that he… let me. Stay, I mean. But I don’t know what’s happening now... I’m scared, Rahima,” he admits quietly, dragging his finger across the morning dew on the bench.

“Fair enough.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I have no idea...”

He is quiet, holding his breath. The streets are fairly empty except for the few morning joggers from the campus and some students in the café. He feels something fragile spinning and weaving itself in the air, carefully, tenderly, like little webs of coincidences to make up for all the bad luck and misguided choices he has made years ago. He is afraid that he’ll break it again. So, he waits.

“Even, I don’t know what…” she sighs. “Listen, a part of me is happy for you. You were loved after all, by someone that you have loved for the longest time. That’s a blessing. But it _has_ been a long time. I don’t know Isak. I don’t know what he has in mind for... you know, about the two of you. You’ll have to speak to him.”

“What happens if he doesn’t want me?”

“You come back and… and I’ll be here. Like I promised.”

“But… what happens if he does?”

“That’s what I’m more anxious about, to be honest. You can stay there, if you want. But that’s… you still have a year and a half to go.”

“I can transfer credits.”

“Yes, you can,” she says hesitantly.

“You’re worried it won’t last,” he says as a matter of fact.

That’s the very truth that they have been dancing around for half an hour.

“I’m not saying it wo—“

“It’s okay. I’m worried too… But I guess, I’m tired of missing him is all. He’s a lot of things for me, Rahima. I know that we learn to live without people, we survive either way…” he says softly, thinking of Imran and her, the sacrifices she made along the way.

“But you don’t want to,” she says, understanding. “Live without him.”

“Yeah. I’m selfish like that.”

“Who isn’t? Well, I guess that’s your answer then.”

He nods even if she can’t see him. And as he walks back to Isak’s apartment, he looks at his palms, brown bag clutched between his arm and chest. He inherited his father’s hands; he will learn to build from rubble.

He nudges the door to Isak’s bedroom open with a shoulder as he balances a plate with the brown bag and a mug over it, and the coffee pot in the other hand. Isak startles at the sound, not expecting to see Even. Even worries again, was Isak expecting him to have left? Is he intruding the younger man’s space?

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Even says, slowly approaching the bed so as to not tip the mug on the plate over.

 “I… I thought you left.”

He places the breakfast on the bed as an answer.

“Hmmm… do you want me to go?” he asks, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

Isak shakes his head and reaches to open the bag.

Even turns to walk out when Isak asks, “Where you going?”

“I’ll get another mug.”

“It’s in the sink. Haven't washed it. We can share this,” he gestures, filling the mug with coffee.

Even settles on the bed next to him, pulling out a slice of chocolate bread. They eat in silence for a while, taking turns sipping coffee out of the mug. It’s oddly detached yet intimate. Even decides to give Isak some time to get used to his presence this morning before broaching the subject.

“Try the bread,” Even nudges Isak softly.

“It has raisins. I don’t like rai—“

“I know,” Even replies, holding out his plate, having already removed the raisins from the chocolate bread for Isak.

Isak looks at Even intently for a moment or two before reaching out and tearing half the slice.

“How is it?”

“It’s good,” Isak nods as he chews before taking the other half of the slice.

He leans against Even’s shoulder as Even takes a sip from the mug. Just then, Even gets a text message from his mum. He had informed her last night that he wasn’t coming home but she’s getting worried and he does owe her an explanation.

He doesn’t open the text message but sighs, “My mum. I’m gonna have to go home. She’ll be worried.”

“Yeah… yeah of course.”

“Are you… Will I see you later?” Even asks.

Isak doesn’t respond right away, taking a second to mull over it.

“If that’s what you want,” he says finally.

“I do. But what do _you_ want?” Even asks.

“I’ll see you later then,” Isak answers instead. “You have my number. Text me or whatever.”

With that, Even goes home, no clearer as to where they stand but feeling oddly hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say one thing here. I'm very aware that the conflict I created wasn't fair for either of the characters and that a lot of people are angry/upset at Even (Fair enough. I chose to write it from his POV for that reason). And I know we all aim for healthy relationships and expect the ideal form of communication from our favourite fictional characters.   
> While I completely agree and would never encourage or condone the assumptions and miscommunications in this fic when it comes to love and friendships, what I aim to do here was to write something that is as messy and silly as our real life mistakes. People are awful when they are hurt, we often repeat what we don't repair. Particularly with mental health issues, we have a skewed perception of what people think about us when we are going through a breakdown. And let's face it, life is usually about me, myself and I. Our thoughts and experiences are very biased, our pain is always more pronounced than the other person's, regardless of how much we love them.
> 
> So, please know that as a person, I would say to you, "Talk to your partner. Regardless of how difficult it is, you don't get to make life-altering decisions on behalf of someone else. You don't get to assume."
> 
> But as someone writing a fic, my stance is, "Yes, this is ugly. But so are the rest of us. I want this to be honest, not just an easy, fluffy happy ending."
> 
> That said, please feel free to share your own experiences. You can disagree with me. You can tell me to hold these characters to a higher standard because life will someday imitate art and our notions of romance need to be healthier and that's alright too. We can discuss it.
> 
> P/S: working on the next chap right now


	17. you can't be the murder weapon and the search party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I posted a long poem as the epigraph of this chapter because I didn't have the heart to cut it down okay? It was beautiful in the way it flowed and picking an excerpt of it would have ruined the unity of effect of the poem.
> 
> https://hellopoetry.com/words/epithet/  
> You can show some love to the author here.

and here i am again  
at the intersection   
of pedestrian language   
& old wives tales  
swallowing gum   
like 7 year memories   
opening umbrellas inside   
cause i can't seem to get away   
from all of this rain  
i masturbate with my left hand   
cause i was told   
back in highschool that  
_"it feels like someone else is doing it"_  
it gets me wondering   
about the difference between   
losing you and finding out   
that someone else found you   
or my sleep   
or lack thereof   
its starting to tear me apart  
i keep having this dream  
where you are in   
an unfamiliar body of water  
trying to wash my poetry   
off of your hands  
or the one where   
something happens in my chest   
every time you sit   
on someone else's bed  
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced   
but don't have the heart   
to look for anymore  
tired of you saying my name  
like you're trying to bury it  
i'm tired of wondering   
if you can tell the difference   
between the absence   
of my voice  & silence   
the other day   
i almost started sobbing   
at work when a woman   
asked me about  
our equipment   
i was explaining how   
things come apart  
and almost mentioned your name  
it made me think   
of how you used to say   
things like "what would you do  
if i showed up on your doorstep   
one day?" now, i haunt   
the windows in my house  
i don't leave for weeks at a time  
i sit on the porch like the dog   
you didn't shoot behind the shed  
the one that refuses to die   
until you come home again  
i told somebody once, that  
you didn't even know   
what my voicemail sounded like  
i wonder if they thought   
it was because you   
are so important that i never   
let it ring that many times   
before picking up  
or if you don't know   
what it sounds like   
because you've never called  
you can't be the murder weapon  
and the search party  
i'm tired of all the seats   
to the ferris wheel in my chest   
being empty  
tired of your voice   
being the one i look for   
in abandoned places  
that one sound i beg   
to bounce back   
down vacant hallways  
i just seem to stand there   
in all of that quiet  
like someone looking for a mistake   
on an eviction notice  
so i guess the hardest part   
isn't letting go  
it's forgetting   
you ever had a grip  
in the first place  
and since you've been gone  
i wonder if when   
you pushed yourself away from me  
you used your left hand  
so it felt like someone else did it  
-[Tom Leveille](https://hellopoetry.com/TomLeveille/)

 

“Hello?” Isak says. 

“Hey. How are you?”

“Hmmm… Same as I was in the morning. You?”

“Yeah. Same. I kind of--I told my parents?” Even says hesitantly.

“About?”

“What happened. With us...”

Isak merely grunts in acknowledgement.

“Sorry, it’s just… they spent a long time thinking, you know, whatever that I was thinking. So, I figured… it’s only fair—“

“You don’t have to explain yourself. They’re your family.”

“Well, yeah. Mum wants you to come over for dinner. She is making mashed potato and lamb chop, the way you like it.”

“Hmmmm….”

Even rushes to add, “You don’t have to. I can pack the food and bring it over if you prefer.“

“No, I’ll come.”

“Okay…”

“Right…”

“Want me to pick you up?” Even offers.

“Nah, I’ll take the subway.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. I wanna get something on my way.”

“For the dinner?”

“Yeah. Mum still likes lilies?”

“Oh, you don’t have to, Isak. You coming over is enough.”

“I want to. Chili dark chocolates for dad and flowers for mum like al--always?” Isak clears his throat.

Even smiles, warmed by the thought. They used to have this deal between the two of them. Even’s mother loves flowers so Isak always got her some. Even loves them too. She passed on the fondness for flowers to him. But flowers are expensive so he never used to let Isak buy him any. His father, on the other hand, can eat whiskey chocolates or spicy dark chocolates by the buckets. He also likes the ones with sea salt flavour. Isak hated the taste of them, he was into the sweet stuff, but he would entertain Even’s father.

In return, when Even visited Isak’s mum, he helped her to fix things around the house. There were days when Isak didn’t want to deal with his mum but Even called once a week to check on her. It took a while for her to get used to the idea of Even being Isak’s boyfriend. She loved Isak all the same but it was oddly tense for them, she was more confused about how to speak to Even more than anything else. But Even wormed his way into her heart eventually. And he understood the way she rambles. He got her fears. So, he was more patient with her than Isak was sometimes.

But being around their parents can be exhausting. Even’s parents were always nosy, too anxious about their son’s well-being to let go of control. They asked too much, talked too much, interfered in some decisions that Isak and Even would make as a couple. 

 _No, don't get a dog. It's too difficult to take care of._  

_Paris is overrated really. You don't wanna go there. And you know, baby, flying isn't good for you._

_Why don't you invite your friends here instead of the apartment? It's bigger. I can cook for them. Dad can grill burgers._

Isak’s mum, well… she had her moods and some days, they had to repeat the same thing to her over and over. It’s like her mind fumbles with her slippery thoughts, obsesses over them despite knowing the answers; her mouth can’t help but repeat the words again and again until they feel just right, smoothed from her incessant reiteration. It was hard for Isak to handle not because he was annoyed at her or unempathetic but it’s his mother. He had to see her at her weakest, clumsiest, most infuriating moments and it isn’t easy for any son to deal with that. Even does because Even is afraid that someday, he will be like her. He could only wish that someone else will entertain his moods, his unending questions.

But the deal is that at the end of the day, they’ll give _each other_ a gift. White lilies for mum, dark chocolate for dad, comforting kisses for Even. They’d go home, make out as long as they want, cuddle each other to sleep, regardless of how vexing the day has been. They’d be kind to each other. And they did that for the longest time until it didn’t feel so significant anymore; it’s sad how easily one overlooks and takes for granted these little rituals, worn out as they are with repetitions. 

He picks up the courage to ask softly on the phone, “And for me? Like always too?”

Isak snorts as he answers, “Ugh, cheeseball.”

Even chuckles and listens to Isak move around, he must have been sorting through something on the other side.

“I’ll see you in an hour then?” Even asks.

“Yup. Will be there.”

Just as Even is about to hang up, he hears Isak say awkwardly, “And yeah, like always for you.”

*****

Even’s mum is in genuine tears when Isak shows up. She hugs him without a word for a long time.

Isak hugs back just as tightly and as she releases him to cup his face with one hand, he laughs wetly and says, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

And she pulls him into another hug just as Even’s father clears his throat, demanding that he gets a turn. She laughs through her tears as she sniffs the flowers, and Even’s dad immediately opens the chocolate bar and offers everyone a square of chocolate. Isak politely declines and then looks over at Even surreptitiously with scrunched up nose.

It is the cutest thing ever and Even can’t help how giddy with joy he feels. Just yesterday, at this time, he was hurting so badly that he thought he’d do anything to escape the day. And now, here he is, watching Isak talk to his parents about his veterinary course like nothing much has changed.

When Even’s mum drags his dad to the kitchen to help with dishing the lamb, Even looks over with a smile and says, “Hello.”

Isak rolls his eyes and jokes, “Oh, didn’t notice you. When did you come in?”

Even just ducks his head to hide his grin and steps closer to Isak.

“I was hiding under the floorboards, didn’t want dad to offer me his chocolate.”

Isak laughs at that, a bright sound in a house that has seen far more pain over the years than happiness.

The younger boy pretends to panic, “Quick, where's the trapdoor? Before he comes back.”

Even beams at Isak, steps closer still and says, “Can I kiss you, you think?”

“Well, can you please? Before I have to--”

And Even leans over and kisses Isak, tenderly, with so much fondness that he feels the flutter in his stomach.

They end up smiling too much to kiss each other for long and Isak says, “Geez, what are we? In middle school?”

“Nah, I wasn’t as smooth then.”

“Oh, so you think you’re very smooth now, huh?” Isak elbows him playfully.

Even just reaches over and nudges his nose against Isak for a moment before his mother calls them to the dining table.

They speak about anything and everything as a family for the next two hours, catching up with what everyone has been up to and eating till they’re so full and too lazy to move away from the dining table. But there is a delicate, fragile tightrope that they are all walking on, carefully avoiding any mentions of the break up, any painful thoughts that may have ran through their minds as the other reveals a little more of their life. They’ve missed out on so much. Even’s mum though, eventually breaks the artificial harmony that they’ve been knitting together.

“So, Even, your dad has been looking up universities here that you can transfer to. Maybe the two of you,” she nods at Isak, “might want to take a look at them as I heat the pie?”

Isak furrows his eyebrows as he asks, “What for?”

Even’s mum tilts her head a little and fumbles with her napkin as she glances at Even and his dad.

“I just thought that maybe Even should move back here now that—“

Even interrupts cautiously, “Mum.”

“What? Are we not going to consider our options?” his mum asks him as she rubs her palms against her pants.

“Mum. Not now.”

“I just thought that—“

“Mum!” Even raises his voice.

His dad pipes in, “What is going on here? Are you or are you not moving back?”

“I don’t—we haven’t… Now’s not the time,” Even answers, knuckles white as he tightens his grip on the fork.

His dad asks Isak point-blank, “Would you like for Even to transfer back here?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Isak says as he wipes his mouth with the napkin.

“Then what’s the plan, love?” his mum questions, twirling the fork. “You want to move to London?”

“No. My life is here,” Isak says without hesitation.

Even’s mum drops the fork and it clangs loudly against her china plate.

“Well, what is happening then?!” she raises her voice and it trembles with agitation.

“Mum! Let it go,” Even admonishes, elbow on the table and massaging his temple with one hand.

“Let it go? Let it go?” his mother’s voice gets shriller. “I am so tired of seeing you unhappy,” she lashes out, eyes watering.

Even’s dad stands up from his seat to comfort her but she is crying now.

“I’m so worried about you all the time. You’re a good kid. You both are,” she gestures at Isak before covering her eyes with her hand. “Why does it have to be so difficult all the time? I just want my son to be happy…”

“I—I’m sorry…” Isak starts, lost.

Even’s dad hushes her as she cries into her hands, “It’s okay, it’s okay, love. Get up. We’ll talk.”

“Mum, can you please stop making a scene?” Even says, voice cracking.

“Don’t talk to your mum like that!” his dad turns on him.

“Me? You’re telling me? I’m not the one who’s ruining the dinner, dad!”

His dad straightens up immediately, face flushing in anger. Isak grips Even’s hand with a sort of urgency that says he really needs to shut up but Even can’t help it.

“Why do we always do this, huh? It was a normal dinner. Why do you always do this?” Even asks.

Even’s mum sobs harder as his dad narrows his eyes in a hostile manner, “She asked for _you_!” He points a finger at Even, “She just wants _you_ to be alright. What's wrong with asking? She's your mother.”

“When will the two of you stop treating me like I’m gonna fucking kill myself if you look away for a second? This is why I left to London in the first place! Not because of him, because of _you._ You treat me like I’m gonna set myself on fire if you don’t make my life better for me!”

Isak whispers, clutching his hand harder, “Even, enough.”

“Well, aren’t you?!” his dad shouts.

Even’s mum stands up instantaneously as though she has been electrocuted. “Stop, stop, both of you. I’m sorry I said anything, Isak. I’m sorry, Even. Please stop,” she says brokenly as she drags her husband to their room and shuts the door.

 “Fuck…” Isak whispers.

Even just remains seated, unmoving with clenched jaws and fists.

“Shit… Even?”

As though that sets him in motion, Even clears out all the plates on the table, washes the dishes silently.

“You want to… I don’t know, talk about it?”

“Sorry about that. Let me just clean the kitchen, then I’ll drop you home,” Even says tightly without turning around.

“What is this talk about moving back here?”

Even shrugs with his back to Isak, still intently washing plates.

“Your parents didn’t discuss it with you?”

“They did.”

“Then?”

“It was just a thought. In case you…”

“In case I what?” Isak asks.

“In case you agreed to do this, to be with me. I was going to ask when you are ready. But mum being mum…”

“And when would that have been?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a flight to catch like tomorrow night?” Isak questions.

Even turns around then, drying his hands.

“I was going to delay the trip for a few more days. Until we’ve talked about it.”

“Then why are we not talking about it right _now_?”

“Because you’ve already made up your mind,” Even answers stoically. “You said that won’t be necessary. So, there’s that.”

He wrings his hands, wipes them against his-shirt with a pinched expression as Isak sits there, staring at him.

“I still don’t get it…” Isak says with an exasperated sigh.

Even looks up, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I’m not leaving my life behind for you, Even. I’m not going to London with you. That’s not happening.”

“I know. I’m not asking you to,” Even says, crossing his arm and leaning against the counter with his head down.

“And you shouldn’t be leaving behind your life in London for me—for this either. It sounds like London’s what you need. Your space. Your art. Your friends and all. You shouldn’t leave that for me.”

“That’s up to me to decide, don’t you think?” Even asks, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

“What? You’re telling me that you would actually transfer here for this?”

“For us, yes. I considered it,” Even says honestly, maintaining eye contact despite how reluctant Isak looks.

“But why? You’ll be leaving so much behind—“

He interrupts resolutely, “And I’ll be gaining so much back.” Even pinches the bridge of his nose, before continuing, “Look, if you don’t feel the same way about me, I get it. It’s been a while. You’ve moved on. I won’t begrudge you for that. But it’s pretty darn simple for me. If I could have you, I would. London’s alright and all, but it doesn’t compare…”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?!” Even raises his voice, frustrated. “Because I still love you! Because you’re fucking important to me! That’s why!”

“Then why the fuck did you break up with me?! Jesus, I still don’t get it! I just don’t! Maybe you didn’t know I was going to propose but still why would you--”

Even strides across the room past Isak and climbs the stairs two at a time. He doesn’t know how else to explain what he used to feel. He goes to his room, grabs the notebook with all his sketches, the one he’s kept since he moved to London. It includes the comic strip he drew after Sana’s wedding. He then opens his cupboard, reaches below the first drawer where he has a key taped under the wood, tears that off, opens the locked upper drawer with it. He pulls out a big shoe box and dusts it off.

Inside, there are loose pages hanging on to the battered copy of an old, brown journal, with illustrations of different mugs of tea on the cover – Earl grey, green tea, peppermint tea, breakfast tea... There is also an illustration of a clock right in the middle, ringing with the words “Time to Partea.” Isak had bought him that journal years ago as a joke, given that Even drinks so much tea. But when Even opened the package, they found that it had lined pages instead of sketch papers. Isak offered to return it and get another one but Even was too fond of the illustrations to exchange it.

He kept it for the longest time, not being a person who journals. But when he started feeling the distance grow between Isak and him, he begun to write down the daily happenings. Just so he knows that he isn’t making things up. That he isn’t living in a delusion. His therapist, back when he used to attend the sessions conscientiously, has always advised that he records his thoughts down. That way, it’s easier to reflect and trace back the triggers for some of his episodes. So, he wrote a lot that last few months together and the few months after.

He reads the first few loose pages on top of the stack.

 

 

 

 

> Dec 12 2015, 4.31 am
> 
> _Isak went to a party last night. He’s still not home. He only texted me a few minutes ago saying that he won’t be home. I was so fucking worried all night that I almost went out looking for him. But he didn’t tell me who’s party he’s at. I didn’t want to pry before but now I wish I did.  He never used to stay at other people’s house before. He always comes home, no matter how late the party ends. Not even at Jonas’. He can’t fall asleep in other people’s bed. I don’t know why he’s not coming home. I haven’t seen him for more than  20 minutes in the morning in the past 3 days. I don’t know why he’s not coming home. He didn’t even call me. Just a text. I don’t know if he’s angry at me or something. If I said something in the morning. I don’t think I did. Maybe I’m overthinking this. I can’t sleep._

He flips through the journal, stops randomly at a page.

 

 

 

> Jan 3 2016 8.51 pm
> 
> _We had another fight. Or rather I had a fight because he forgot to pick up the laundry on his way home and we have no clean underwear. I don’t care about the underwear if I’m honest with myself. He forgot because he was hanging out with Mahdi all evening, playing video games. And he didn’t answer my call or read my text. And when I asked him about it, he just groaned and sighed. Like he can’t even fucking entertain me with a response. And then he just went to bed. Like what the fuck is up with him?_

 

 

 

 

 

> Jan 27 2016, 2.49 pm
> 
> _I am fucking pissed off. I need to get this out before it poisons my mind. I feel like I’m the only one working really hard at this, to keep us going. Sure, he tries, I know he does, but not fucking good enough at this point. No matter how much shit I’m going through, I don’t put him on hold. Not anymore, I don't. I get that it’s his coping mechanism, I get needing space, but he doesn’t fucking talk to me anymore._
> 
> _When I need space, I tell him I’m gonna go off for a while but I check on him from time to time.  He just said he needs a timeout and stayed with Jonas these past two days. He can't fall asleep if it isn't in his own bed. He needs his pillow. I get that he’s pissed off about his mum and all but why is he fucking bailing on me? I’m just sitting here, waiting for him to come home. Sure, he didn’t ask me to put my life on hold but I can’t switch my commitment to a person and their well-being on and off at a moment’s notice. What, is it that fucking hard to say good night? To talk for a couple of minutes a day?_
> 
> _I feel like I am constantly finding reasons to stay but he isn’t meeting me halfway. It’s not enough to love me when you’re feeling good, goddamnit. You gotta choose me when shit gets tough too. You don’t get to just disappear and come back whenever. I am not a property you can walk in and out of. I am a fucking person and I don’t stop worrying about you even if your bad moods have nothing to do with me. I’m exhausted and pissed off and fucking done right now._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Jan 29 2016 10.58 pm
> 
> _He came back to me, better than ever. It is so beautiful that I want to almost cry. After days of not speaking properly, he came back today. We went out for lunch, talked about everything, about his fight with his mum, about getting drunk at Jonas’, how he spent the day listening to Magnus talk about Vilde. I didn’t have anything to say. I just spent the days waiting for him. It would sound too pathetic to say that._
> 
> _Then, we went grocery shopping. He held my hand the whole day, told me how soft my palm was, how he wants to rub his face against it. He said he missed me. We played arcade in the mall. Then he drove up to the hill to watch the sunset. It was perfect. He climbed into my seat for a while, and we hugged. He held me against his chest, stroked my hair, my ear, my shoulders, my back. He kissed me a few times. It was more than I expected._
> 
> _Then the police car drove by and I let go and he slowly moved back to the driver’s seat and we drove home. We had sex. It was so beautiful, I almost cried a little from how happy I was, how surreal that we’re back to being us._
> 
> _He’s asleep now and I’m so fucking sleepy too but I’m writing this down just in case. I need to save up as much as I can, while I still can._
> 
> _So, here’s how I know he loves me still._
> 
>   1. _He said so today. A few times. He also said he missed me the past few days._
>   2. _When we were making love, he kissed my neck and whispered, “You’re a precious thing.”_
>   3. _He drove for two hours today just so we can see the sunset_
>   4. _He checked on me a lot, made sure I was comfortable._
>   5. _He asked if I wanted to go see Coldplay in Amsterdam next year. That means he is thinking about next year right? With me._
>   6. _When I asked him why he didn’t want to talk to me about his mum, he said he just didn’t feel like talking. But if he ever did, he’ll come to me. Because he trusts me, said that he needs me, that I support him in ways that he wouldn’t let anyone else._
> 

> 
> _I really need to go to bed. I’m so fucking tired. But he makes me happy._
> 
> March 5 2016 10.10 am
> 
> _It hurts to be awake. Isak’s in class. I miss him. It feels like forever since the last entry. I think he’s bored, he’s sick of me. My chest hurts always. My stomach hurts always. Split wide open feeling. Just incessant, nagging pain. I need to make it go away. I miss him…_
> 
>  

He skips that entry because he remembers how that ended and it still makes him flinch. He drank himself to a near blackout, tried to jerk himself off thinking of Isak and failing at that, puked in the toilet and cried himself to sleep.

He jumps to the last entry he wrote four days before the break up, he remembers the date.

 

 

 

> April 18 2016 1.34 am
> 
> _I’m feeling numb right now but it will hurt soon, I know. And it will hurt like hell. This relationship is stagnant now. He doesn’t have the will to try and I don’t know if I have the capacity to keep going like this. It feels like we’re running out of time. Maybe we should break up before it turns toxic and ruins us both. But I don’t know, I can’t do it though. I’m selfish like that. I just can’t. I need him. I still love him even if he doesn’t anymore._
> 
> _But he has reached the end of his line, it isn’t fair to keep hoping he has more to give. I’m just not good enough to make this work. Love isn’t enough to compensate for all the things I lack. I can't give him a normal life. I think he's realising that. At the end of the day, we are all alone. Irredeemably. He used to make me forget that feeling. Lately, the loneliness and longing get bigger around him. It terrifies me that…_

Even looks up from reading as someone knocks on his door.

“Yeah?” he asks, swallows the lump in his throat.

“I’m going home. Tell your parents I said thank you for the food and sorry for everything else,” Isak says, looking annoyed.

“I told you I’d drop you.”

“You also fucking left in the middle of a conversation so it’s really hard to tell…” Isak snaps.

“I wanted to get this,” he holds out the box, like an offering.

Isak doesn’t budge an inch. His hand is still around the knob of the door as he stands outside the threshold to his room, as though he plans to shut it right after and walk away.

“Come in, will you?” Even asks.

“I want to go home.”

“Okay,” Even says, packing up his sketchbook, journal and the loose pages along with some old polaroid pictures of them that Noora snapped when she bought a camera.

He walks out of the room, passes Isak the box and wipes his dusty hands on his jeans.

“Let’s go,” Even says, jogging down the stairs.

He feels his face burning even with his back turned to Isak. He has written some of the most desperate moments down, he feels almost ashamed with how vulnerable they sound, how irrational. But he thinks it’s only fair that Isak knows what it was like to live in his head all those years back.

“What is this?” Isak asks, still not opening the box.

He looks up from the bottom of the staircase as Isak slowly climbs down, holding the box out like it will detonate.

“You asked me why I broke up with you. It wasn’t from a lack of love for you. It was because of that… It's a mess. Read it if you want,” Even says as he gets his dad’s car keys.

He stands outside his parents’ bedroom door, hears them talking quietly and calls out, “Mum, I’m going to send Isak home… And I’m sorry. For what I said.”

They quiet down for a moment, and his dad opens the door.

“We still have to talk about this when you come home,” he says sternly.

“Okay… Okay, we will.”

He walks away and hears his mum call after him, “Drive safely. And tell Isak I’m sorry for intruding. Tell him to come back another day.”

“I will. Thank you for dinner,” Isak announces loudly.

When they get into the car, Isak riffles through the shoebox and pulls out a picture of them. Even stops him with a hand against the box.

“Please don’t read it now. Not in front of me.”

“Why not? What else is there to hide?” Isak says nonchalantly, not fully comprehending the contents of the box.

“Just don’t. Please? Wait till you get home.”

Isak sighs and closes the box. They spend the rest of the drive, brooding in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think as always :)


	18. the right to call it home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byHSQoemFvI  
> Song for this chapter. It's absolutely beautiful and makes me want to cry every time I listen to it.

A little broken, a little new.  
We are the impact and the glue.  
Capable of more than we know,  
We call this fixer upper home.

With each year, our color fades.  
Slowly, our paint chips away.  
But we will find the strength  
And the nerve it takes  
To repaint  
and repaint  
and repaint  
every day.

Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind.  
Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide.  
Settle our bones like wood over time, over time.  
Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.  
  
Smaller than dust on this map  
Lies the greatest thing we have:  
The dirt in which our roots may grow  
And the right to call it home.  
\- Sleeping At Last, _North_  


 

Even wakes up at 2.52 am, feeling the need to pee. He goes to the washroom, and checks his phone while slipping into bed. 2 missed calls from Isak about an hour ago. He immediately sits up on the bed, his heart picking up pace as he redials the number. Isak has never initiated any of their interactions so far. He’s afraid of what this means, phone calls so late at night.

Isak picks up on the third ring, “Even?”

“Hey… You called? Sorry I was—“

“Is this really what you thought of me?” Isak asks, voice rough as though he had been crying.

It instantly overwhelms Even with guilt.

“I…” he sighs with the lack of words.

“You really thought I didn’t love you. Jesus, Even, you really did.”

Even expects angry accusations but Isak just sounds really...  _sad_. He didn’t even pose it as a question, as though he is slowly coming to a realisation that they both had very different experiences of the same incidents.

“I’m sorry, Isak. I don’t know what I was thinking but… I don’t know.”

“It’s my fault,” Isak answers, voice cracking.

Even listens to him sniffle.

“It’s not. I just…” Even exhales in frustration, not knowing how to explain what went wrong.

“It is,” Isak replies. “It _is_ my fault. I had a gut feeling something was up but I thought it’s just one of our usual troubles. I thought you were on the verge of another episode and – and it’ll be bad for a while but it’ll be okay again. I got too fucking comfortable, that's what. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I should have spoken to you.”

“Yes but I should have too. Shit, Even, half these entries you wrote, I don’t even remember where I was or what I was doing. None of that was important to me. I was just going about things like usual. I didn’t care about the parties or whatever. My friends went out at night so I went out too. I didn’t invite you because you didn’t really enjoy hanging out with my friends other than…I don’t know… Jonas, Mahdi, Mags… I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to leave you by yourself. I thought you’d rather hang out at home than go out and all— none of that was important to me, I swear! Look-- look at all I've lost for that, it wasn't worth it, none of that was worth this-- ”

“It’s okay, Isak. It’s all in the past and we--“

“Is it? Is it really in the past? This is-- this is happening now, Even. It’s catching up to us. All the shit we did -- all the shit we did and didn’t do, it’s happening now all over again,” Isak sobs, breath catching convulsively as he tries to get the words out.

Even’s heart breaks all over again. He is tired of hurting Isak. For a second, he thinks he would much rather go back to London and let Isak move on, even if it means that Even has to deal with this lifelong grief of losing another chance. He thinks he’d do anything to not make Isak cry anymore.

Even whispers hoarsely as he swallows the lump in his throat, “Baby, please stop crying. I don’t want this for you.” 

“I should have paid more attention to you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know... I was hurting you. I just got too fucking comfortable, I’m just—I’m an idiot. In my head, you were just—you were always there, you know? I woke up in the morning to you, and I came home to you. I didn’t get that there was more to a relationship. I’m sorry. I just—you were there and I thought that was all… I thought you knew that I was there too. I thought you were just annoyed with me—cause we… we were always together. I didn’t—fuck I should have paid more attention--” Isak gasps on the phone, trying to explain himself.

“Isak, please, you’re breaking my heart.”

"I'm sorry," Isak cries on the phone and Even listens. He doesn’t know what else to do.

He merely repeats, “Ssshhh it’s okay, babe. It’s okay,” over and over as Isak sobs.

They must have been on the phone for over an hour, Even’s side of the face is hot where he has been holding the phone, he has a headache from crying quietly, waiting for Isak’s sobs to subside.

“Can you—“ Isak hiccups, “Can you come over? Please?”

“Yeah okay,” Even answers, jumping off the bed. “Okay, I’m coming over right now.”

He struggles to wear his pants as he balances the phone against his shoulder.

“Should I put down the phone?”

“No,” Even says as he climbs into his dad’s car after leaving a note on the kitchen counter. “Stay with me.”

“I don’t want to distract you while driving,” Isak answers, slowly regaining his breath. “Get here safely.”

“I will. I’ll turn on the hands free. Stay on the line.”

And Isak does. For a while, it’s just hearing Isak breathe as Even drives, neither saying anything.

Then he hears Isak make a sound akin to laughter, except it’s a little too sad to sound joyous.

“What?” Even asks gently.

“I just found your drawing… from the wedding?” Isak answers.

Even blushes instantly. This is getting more and more embarrassing for him.

As though Isak senses the discomfort, he says, “It’s sweet.”

“It wasn’t when I drew it.”

Even can’t believe how much has changed in a matter of days. Sana’s wedding seems so far away, like it happened months ago. He can’t completely remember what he drew the night after. He knows it has an alternate universe of Isak and Even, holding hands and Even telling him how much he missed him. But that night feels so dissociated from this moment.

“You know…” Isak starts, “I drew you one too. After the… after we broke up? Of course I sucked at it, but I drew a comic strip cause you know how you always leave stuff in my pockets? It had an alternate universe too and it said, ‘Fuck marriage. I don't need contracts to love you.’ It was stupid... cheesy, just stick figures. I left it in your sweater. You put it to wash, it came out of the washing machine squeezed into a pulp,” Isak makes that sound again, akin to a sorrowful laughter.

Even’s mind flashes to the paper that flaked like snow when Isak threw the letter and ring at him just two nights ago. Even took everything back home, except the ring and that clumped up paper. Isak threw the paper in the trash and Even left the ring on the kitchen counter when he called a cab, not wanting to take it in case Isak wanted to keep the ring. The ring had a gold lining and moving gears. It didn’t look as formal and pristine as usual engagement rings but Even loved it all the same. It made him miserable just looking at it, a reminder of what he came so close to having and lost anyway. So, he didn’t take it with him when he left Isak’s apartment.

“Fuck, was that what the other paper was? The one you threw away?”

“Yup. Stupid to have kept it in the first place. You can't read anything on it.”

“I would have given up anything to have found it, Isak. Anything. Shit... this is so fucked up,” Even says as he turns the car towards the parking lot near Isak’s apartment.

“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know?” Isak says softly.

He feels cold with dread, like his blood flow is arrested by Isak’s declaration.

“Is that… do you really think that?” Even switches the gear to park and turns off the engine. “Do you really think we are not… meant to be?”

This is exactly what his father had said. _We told ourselves it wasn’t meant to be and that's what happened. We broke up. Your mum and I, now we’ve seen some bad times together. We know it’s not easy. But we don’t ever say it wasn’t meant to be. We just work at it._

His father is not always right, that much he has learnt just like every other child in the world. But among all the people of his parents’ age that he has seen, there are very few who love and support each other through the unimaginable hardships that his parents have been through. So, he knows instinctively, this is one of those instances when his father’s words bear the weight of wisdom sown by years of hard-fought battles. His parents weren’t always on the winning team, but they’ve lost together gracefully, without blaming each other for the failure. And isn’t that the greater conquest of love and marriage?

“Wait, are you here?” Isak asks, probably picking up on the sudden silence of the car.

“Yeah…”

“Okay, come up. I’ll open the door. Oh by the way… Andreas is home, sleeping in his room. So, we got to be quiet.”

“Okay,” says Even, still feeling thrown off balance by Isak’s lack of response to the question.

Isak doesn’t put down the phone though, so Even hears something rustle, hears the footsteps and it’s odd but he thinks he likes it. How comfortable this conversation has been despite the many heartbreaks.

As he waits for the lift, he calls, “Isak?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are we not meant to be?” his voice is so soft, he’s not sure Isak even heard him because Isak remains silent for a while.

“I think that’s the wrong question,” Isak answers tentatively.

“Then what’s the right question?”

“Does it matter if we are meant to be or not? Who gets to decide?”

“Us?”

“Us.”

When Even approaches Isak’s door, the younger boy opens it without Even having to knock.

“Hi,” says Even, still holding the phone to his ear, one hand up like he was about to knock.

“Hi,” smiles Isak.

“I was just about to knock.”

“I heard the elevator announcement on the phone.”

Isak puts down the phone with a snort. Even does the same, looks at his feet as he puts the phone into his pocket, battery at 4%. When he looks up again, something has changed between them. The weightlessness of their greetings gone, the anger that lighted Isak’s eyes the last time he showed up on his doorstep gone, the suffocating helplessness gone. It’s just quiet, a proper reunion, one that may very well only last for the next few hours but it’s like finally seeing each other for who they truly are and not for the mess they’ve made out of each other. Isak and Even. Even and Isak. Lovers. Friends. Family.

Even holds out his hand and Isak takes it, no longer uncertain. Isak gently pulls him into the house, closes the door and they tiptoe into Even’s room. When the lock in Isak’s room clicks, Even squeezes Isak’s hand. The younger boy hugs him, hands around Even’s shoulders and Even hugs back. They sway a little, embracing for a long time, feeling the warmth of the other against their chest.

“Minute by minute?” Even asks.

Isak pulls away then, looks Even in the eye for a while before nodding.

Even nudges his nose against Isak’s, the way they used to all those years ago. And Isak smiles, nudges back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byHSQoemFvI  
> Song for this chapter. It's absolutely beautiful and makes me want to cry every time I listen to it.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter? :)


	19. my mind is a bad neighbourhood

My demons, though quiet,   
are never quite silenced.   
Calm as they may be,   
they wait patiently for a reason to wake,   
take an overdue breath,   
and crawl back to my ear.

-Sarah Boswell

 

Isak and Even lie in bed, hardly any distance between them. Their legs are tangled, Even’s thigh between Isak’s, they are sharing a pillow, close enough to be sharing breaths too, Even’s arm around Isak’s waist, gently rubbing his lower back with his thumb where he hiked up his lover’s shirt.

Even easily dozes off, floating in contentment in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He usually just tires himself out until he physically crashes. He hasn’t felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep for the joy and pleasure of it in a long time.

He is startled awake when Isak cups his face, taps lightly with his thumb against Even’s cheekbone.

“Sorry, was I snoring?” Even asks, yawning.

“No—“

Even kisses Isak’s forehead and burrows deeper into the pillow to fall asleep again.

“Even, please don’t.”

Even’s eyes snap open again.

“What?”

“Stay awake with me? I’ll make you coffee?”

“Baby, can’t you sleep?” Even sits up in bed, slowly untangling himself from Isak.

 He used to keep Isak accompany every time the younger boy suffered from a bout of insomnia.

“Here, come here,” he drags Isak onto his lap, head against his chest as Even leans against the headboard.

He kisses the crown of Isak’s head, scratches Isak’s head gently the way he likes it.

“Should I get you something? Chamomile maybe? Are you still on sleeping pills?” Even asks as he suppresses a yawn.

Isak clings to his arm with one hand, the other circles around Even’s waist.

“No, it’s not sleeping troubles,” Isak says, breathing deeply as he pushes his face against Even’s chest.

“Then…?”

“You’re leaving tonight. I need make the best out of every second,” Isak whines.

“What?” Even pulls away from Isak’s face so as to look him in the eye. “Baby, I told you… I’ll stay for you.”

Isak looks up hopefully, “Can you do that? Stay another week? I’ll pay for the flight ticket.”

“You don’t have to pay for anything, silly. I’ll take care of it,” he bends forward and lightly kisses Isak. “Now... can we go to sleep?” he asks jokingly.

Isak nods, leaning forward again, chasing his lips. Even complies before sliding down on the bed, and wrapping his arms around Isak as the younger boy rests half on top of him, head tucked under Even’s chin.

They sigh together and dream softly.

****

Even wakes up before Isak as he always does. He goes to the kitchen and starts scrambling eggs for the two of them, feeling more at ease in Isak’s space than he was the last time he was here.

He hears the door open and footsteps approaching, so he greets cheerfully without even turning back.

“Morning…” comes a sleep-rough voice. “Wait a minute…” the voice takes on a higher pitch.

 Andreas. Shit, how did he forget about Andreas?

Andreas stares at him and Even, disconcerted with the raised eyebrow directed at him, waves a little.

“Isak!” Andreas shouts before striding straight into Isak’s room, uncaring about personal space.

They must be really comfortable with each other. Even tries to squash down the weird jealousy that he feels. He hears murmuring before the voices get louder.

“Are you out of your mind? He is bad news!” Andreas exclaims.

He doesn’t hear what Isak says but Andreas replies, “Let him! Maybe he’ll learn his place. The audacity coming over here, trying to make up.”

Even feels ashamed, the knot in his stomach tightening. He turns off the stove and washes his hand, just so he has something to do.

 “He’s not worth the bullshit. What is wrong with you?!” Andreas asks, voice dripping with disdain.

“What is wrong with _you_?” Isak asks loudly. “Is this about him or about you?”

“Oh please, Isak. Don’t fucking flatter yourself. We’re way past that. I just don’t want you crying another river because you choose shitty people to be hung up on.”

“Fuck off. Just—fuck off.”

Andreas storms into the kitchen and sees Even still standing there, not knowing what to do.

“You’re still here?”

When Even doesn’t reply, he asks, “Which part of ‘you’re not wanted here’ are you not picking up on?”

Even nods and mutters sorry a couple of times as he walks past Andreas to get to the front door, only to find Isak in the living room.

“So what? You just leave?” Isak asks, eyes alight with anger again.

“I… I’m sorry, I--“

“He says you’re not worth it,” Isak accuses, pointing at Andreas.

Even looks at Andreas, standing with his arms crossed like it doesn’t bother him, taking full responsibility for the things he has uttered.

“I heard,” Even says. “I’m gonna go.”

“You heard? You fucking heard and what? You want to maybe stand up for yourself for once?”

Even is frustrated, slighted and completely lost as to what Isak expects of him.

“I don’t know what you expect me to—“

“I expect you to tell him off! I expect you to say something to defend yourself! For once in your fucking life, stop letting other people push you around.”

“He’s not… I don’t—“ Even huffs, completely taken aback.

“You get that this is why things went to shits with us right? You don’t take care of yourself! You let other people treat you like crap because you don’t think you’re good enough.”

This time, Even is riled up enough to ask, “What does that have to do with us?”

“It has everything to do with us! You said I don’t— I didn’t love you. And you were wrong! Maybe I didn’t love you the way you needed me to. But instead of standing up to me, telling me off for not treating you right, not being there at times, you fucking took it upon yourself. And now you’re doing it again. You don’t even know that guy and you’re letting him walk all over you.“

“I know he’s your friend. I know he’s just upset for you. And he has his reasons, I did hurt you and I’m sorry--”

“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know what you did for me, how you loved me. He has no fucking idea what you mean to me. Or what I mean to you! He only knows that I was a mess when you left. Instead of telling him off, you’re just apologising. If I were you, I would have punched him in the--”

“Oh wow. Really, Isak? Fucking really?” Andreas says drily, not appreciating Isak’s tone.

“Andreas!” he huffs. “This isn’t about you.”

“Sounds like it is.”

“No. It isn’t! Andreas, you know I love you... You’re my best friend but _shut up_ for a while. This isn’t abou—fuck, Even, when are you going to take care of yourself?”

Even’s face crumples, overwhelmed by what’s happening. He’s lost as to how this started. He can understand Andreas’ attacks on his worth but he doesn’t get why Isak is suddenly getting on his case too. He was going to leave with what little dignity he had left but it feels like Isak won’t let him go by that easily.

“I’m sorry—“ Even starts.

“Stop being sorry. Jesus, Even… I want you to look—I _need_ you to look after yourself!” Isak says before stepping forward to pull Even against him.

He hugs Even tight, holding on as the older boy sags against him. Even can’t help the way his mind works. He has heard it before, this whole talk about having some self-respect. Elias said it to him once, not in a hostile manner but as an attempt to placate him when he found out that Isak backhand slapped the boy that called Even a cock sucking fag for wearing a pansexual flag badge.

They were very young then, still early in their relationship, navigating being out and together in school. Many awful slurs were thrown at Even particularly because he wasn’t the kind of guy to engage in the provocation. With Isak, it’s flying fists and a boy squad back up all the time. Most bullies knew better than to pick a fight with a kid that fights back. So, when Isak slapped the boy twice and got himself suspended for two days, Even spiralled into another one of his self-deprecating phases, thinking it’s all his fault.

Elias said then, “You know we’ll show up for you, bro. Anyone messes with you, you just gotta call me, you know that right?”

“People say stupid things all the time. It doesn’t matter. Fuck, I just wish he wasn’t such an idiot to say it in front of Isak. Now he’s… he’s suspended because of me.”

“No, he isn’t. Isak’s suspended because he chose to fight the bastard. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s called having self-respect.”

“I feel bad, Elias. It’s all because of me--” Even lamented.

Elias merely squeezed his shoulder, tired of telling Even that it wasn’t his fault.

He merely said, “If Isak didn’t, I would have. Listen, bro, you don’t have to be chill about everything people say or do. Don’t make excuses for assholes. I’m not saying you should hit ‘em, that’s more down my lane, but don’t let ‘em talk to you like that. Call ‘em out. If it gets bad, call us. That’s what bros are for.”

His thoughts are interrupted as he hears Andreas go, “Well, don’t come crying to me is all,” before walking out the door.

The slam reverberates around them for a moment, as they stand holding each other still.

Even’s voice cracks as he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Isak’s shoulder, “He’s right though. You're too good for me. But I still want to be with you. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person.”

 Isak pulls away, one hand against Even’s cheek and the other at the nape of his neck. Even tilts his head and kisses Isak’s palm before leaning into it earnestly.

“Fuck, Even, I don’t know how to make you see... you’re good. You’re more than enough. You’re so much more.”

When he kisses Even again, he whispers against Even’s lips, “You’re good, you’re good… you’re so good for me.”

“I’m sorry… I’m fucked in the head.”

“Ssshhh… You’re a precious thing, Even. I’ll say it until you believe me. I won’t let your demons win. Not this time.”

Even whispers back, eyes closed as Isak kisses his forehead, “If there’s anyone who could do that... it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly dealing with the problems. *sigh* Let me know what you think of this chapter.


	20. and my world is full again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. My laptop died for a week and a half and I had so much work to catch up when I got it repaired. :( Hope you enjoy this chapter

_“Each time you happen to me all over again.”_  
-Edith Wharton  


 

They spend the days and nights they have left wrapped up together. Isak has practically moved into Even’s house for a week because the older boy refused to bother Andreas more than he already has. His parents know better than to pry into their future plans, but there is an unmistakable tension that becomes tauter as the week passes. Even has to leave to London in two days. He has to sit for his finals in a few weeks and then... everything’s still up in the air.

“So, have you spoken to him yet?” Rahima’s voice is more frustrated than it was days before. She must have gotten tired of repeating this very conversation.

“No. I don’t know how to start,” Even answers softly, looking up at the stairs, making sure that Isak hasn’t woken up yet. He flips the pancake with a wooden spoon, tearing it in half accidentally as he tries to balance the phone against his shoulder.

“Even—You can’t just—listen. You need a game plan. For your own benefits, you need a game plan, okay? You can’t wait for other people to make decisions for you. You need to look out for yourself first.”

Isak’s words, _When are you going to take care of yourself?_ floats back tauntingly.

_You get that this is why things went to shits with us right?_

He can’t have that anymore. He can’t afford to sabotage his relationship with Isak. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time and he is so terrified that bringing up the topic of his impending departure will make things all too real and tragic. But he gets it. He needs to talk, he must.

“I know you love him, you want to be with him, and I get that this is hard...” Rahima adds as the silence stretches.

He turns off the stove, closing his eyes as he listens to her speak.

“But you come first. Always. Do what’s right for you. People come and go.”

“He’s more than that to me, Rahima,” Even bristles.

“I know but it’s your dream that’s at stake. He isn’t losing anything to be with you. You’re the one who has to give everything up—“

“Not much. I can study here.”

“You didn’t want to live with your parents and trouble them.”

“I don’t have to. I can get an apartment again with Isak.”

“So soon? You’ve just been… I don’t know. Together? For a week? How if he is very different than what he used to be? How if things don’t work out?”

“I’ll make it work.”

“It’s not just on you. That’s not what a relationship is.”

“I know but—“

 “You’re not thinking, Even. You’re just not thinking. You’re making rash decisions, you’re giving up everything you’ve built here. What about your internship? Is it really worth giving up your dreams—“

“I’m not you! Okay? You chose to give up Imran for this. Was that really fucking worth it, Rahima? Huh? That’s you. I’m not you,” he grits out.

He hates feeling like he is out of control of his own life and that’s exactly what it was like in the past week. He’s happy, but he is so anxious all the time. He can’t predict the next moment with Isak, doesn’t know what the younger man’s plans are. And having Rahima voice out those fears and push him into deciding made him snap. He immediately regrets his words when he hears nothing from the other end.

“Rahi—“

“I think we should talk later,” she says tersely, hanging up.

He instantly texts her, **I’m so sorry. That was unkind.**

She reads the message, it’s blue ticked but she doesn’t respond. It makes him feel a lot worse than if she just shouted at him over the phone. But he knows that it’s her nature. She doesn’t lose herself in anger, doesn’t raise her voice even. She merely disconnects. That’s how you know that she has reached her boiling point.

He scrapes the huge, torn off pancake and transfers it to his plate, leaving the prettier ones for Isak. He brings the plates up before his parents return home from their morning exercise. They’ve apparently constructed a routine of activities to do together since Even left so that they get to spend more time together and not wallow over the absence of their son. He thinks that’s nice and healthy. He’d like to be like that with Isak someday.

When he enters the room, Isak is in the washroom, taking a shower. He places the plates on the bedside table and goes down to get two mugs and the coffee pot.

Isak walks out of the shower, smelling like soap and warmth, kisses him ardently as though he had missed Even in the 7 hours of being asleep. Even pulls away too quickly to put the coffee pot on the table, climbs into bed and ruffles up the pillows before placing them against the headboard so they can comfortably lean against it. He catches Isak looking at him, doubtful, perhaps by how hastily he detached from the kiss and Even smiles playfully before patting his lap.

“Now, come here and kiss me.”

Isak rolls his eyes as he snorts but complies wordlessly, straddling Even as he kisses him from his hairline, to his nose and finally reaches Even’s lips.

Even runs his hands up Isak’s back as he leans his head against the headboard to let Isak take control. He moans softly when Isak sucks on his bottom lip and nibbles it lightly.

Isak pulls away to catch his breath and whispers, “Good morning.”

Even kisses his neck as he answers, “The best morning,” and relishes the quiet chuckle from Isak.

The younger boy places his palm against Even’s chest and pushes lightly, “Okay, alright, don’t get me going. I need breakfast.”

Even whines his dissatisfaction but lets Isak climb off him to get their plates of pancake.

They eat as Isak complains about the classes he missed this week, how he needs to make up for it by doing extra assignments to please this one particular lecturer who doesn’t accept family emergencies as a valid excuse without documentation to prove it.

“I guess we’ll both be busy next week then,” Even says warily.

“Yup. So much to catch up.”

“Me too. I gotta study for finals. _And_ I gotta figure out how to transfer here anyway. Will probably have to run around the admin office for that.”

Isak looks at him, suddenly conflicted.

“You’re transferring here?”

Even’s heart stopped for way longer than his lungs could bear, he thinks. That… didn’t sound enthusiastic. In fact, it was as though Isak was not even considering it.

“Wasn’t that what you wanted too?” Even asks, eyebrows drawn in concern.

“Even, no,” Isak says softly, as though he was afraid of startling him. “One week was all I was asking from you.”

Even swallows the pancake he had in his mouth before his body decided to give in to the urge of puking it out.

He stares at his plate, trying to mask his disappointment and hurt with indifference. He feels Isak move away, tilting the bed slightly as he scoots to the edge, hears the clink of the plate as he sets it on the table before moving closer again. He takes a deep breath and it feels like a light dimming within, an odd silence in his mind. Before a small voice begins, _He doesn’t want you. Not for the long run._

“Even?” he calls, voice meek and cautious.

“Hmmm?” he asks, still pushing his spoon around in the syrup for a lack of anything better to do.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Even shrugs.

“Even, look at me,” he reaches out to cup his face but Even winces at the motion, making Isak stop.

He wants to get out of the room, find an excuse to leave, tell Isak that they’ll talk about it later or something, or pretend it doesn’t matter. But he’s tired. He’s tired of waiting, of uncertainty that plagues him even in the best of times, how he feels out of place, uncomfortable, when he thinks of moving back, of seeing Jonas and explaining himself, Sonja and Sana and Yousef and everyone. Most of all, he is tired of the bully in his head, that constantly beats him into place, tells him how unloved and insignificant he is to everyone around him. He recognises the voice as untrue, he gets it, he has been seeing a therapist after the break up, but it doesn’t make it any less hurtful. And he’s tired of falling for it over and over.

He turns over slowly and looks Isak in the eye, just as the younger boy requested.

Isak looks a little startled himself, as though he wasn’t expecting it. Not after Even flinched at the near contact. They stare at each other for a while, Isak looking puzzled, trying to assess the situation, Even just looking, gathering the courage to say something.

“Do you even want me?” Even asks quietly but steeling his gaze instead of looking away.

“Of course I want—why would you even ask me that?” Isak says defensively.

They need to talk this out, Even knows. It doesn’t make it any easier. But he decides to just flip over for once, show Isak where it hurts.

“I mean in your life, Isak. Not right now. But in the long haul. Do you see me there?”

Isak hesitates and Even hears the small voice get louder. _I told you, he doesn’t want you. This is all for fun. You’re no good to live with._

“What do you think?” Isak asks, sounding almost annoyed.

“About what?”

“What do you think is going on here if I don’t want you?”

“I don’t know, Isak.”

“You must know! There must be some instinct that tells you one way or the other. What the hell do you think is happening here?” Isak raises his voice.

“I don’t know, Isa-- Okay, maybe I do. Maybe I think you want me too. But maybe I need to hear it from you. Why is it so hard for you to speak?”

 Isak scoffs, looking away, offended and the voice within grows, trying to colonise even the most hopeful parts of him. _He can’t say it. Because he doesn’t love you. He thinks he does. He loves the idea of you. But the real you? He wants no part of that shit._

Even inhales deeply, touches Isak’s wrist with one finger. He is afraid to hold Isak's hand because if he pulls away, he will rip Even’s heart out. So he touches gently, not to impose on the younger boy.

“I know you’re not good with words, Isak--”

He feels Isak turning his wrist so it's closer to his hand. He wraps his fingers around it loosely, providing wordless comfort to both Isak and himself.

“I don’t know why-- or what made it hard for you to speak of how you feel over the years. I don’t know if it’s just me or something else that stops you—“

And Isak shifts again, his attention back on Even.

“It’s not you, Even, for God’s sake, don’t—“

“Fine, not me then. But I need to hear it. You wanted me to stand up to you and ask for what I need. So, here goes. Do you want to be with me or not?”

“I do,” he huffs, frustrated.

Even watches as Isak’s eyes tear a little, distressed.

“I do want to be with you,” Isak answers, “I don’t get why you are always doubting that.”

He waits for the small voice in him to taunt again but nothing now. Just silence. 

“It’s just how my head works,” Even says softly.

Isak lays his forehead against Even’s collarbone and whispers, “I don’t know how to tell you how much I-- Words seem stupid. They’re just _words_.”

“Not to me, they’re not.”

Isak just nods, resigned to the fact that they are both different that way. Just as Even was beginning to feel cosy with Isak’s breath against his neck and his arm around Isak’s shoulder, he hears it. _Then what did he mean only one week? How sure are you that he’s not just saying things to make you feel better?_

Even sighs. For once, he figures he will give that small voice an existence. He will manifest it so it can get its answers and be appeased.

“What did you mean when you said you only wanted one week? What happens to us now?” Even asks.

Isak pulls away and looks at him.

“You’ll go back and I’ll wait for you. It’s just a year and a half, right?”

“You’ll wait for me? Here?” Even asks.

“Yeah…?”   

“Like a long distance relationship.”

“I guess. I’ll drop by for winter holidays, you can drop by for summer. I don’t know. We can plan it out.”

 _That’s not practical. Remember Rahima and Imran? That won’t work,_ hisses the small voice.

“Do you really think that will work? After all we’ve been through--”

“That’s exactly _why_ it will work, Even. Think about it, we’ve been through this before. And we still found our way back. I’ve waited for you all this while, haven’t I? I didn’t know I was waiting, not really… But I didn’t quite want to be with anyone else either. I know how your absence feels. It will be hard, fucking hard, of course. But we know better now. And we got Skype and phone calls and stuff. Unless... I don't know, unless you don't want to be... exclusive like that?”

“I love you. Only you... But wouldn’t it just be easier if I moved back here?” Even asks, still a little unconvinced.

“No, it won’t. You will have to sacrifice things for me. I don’t like it. I want you to finish what you started.”

“I can do that here. It’s not like I’m quitting school.”

“But you’re quitting _something_. You told me yourself, you felt more independent and capable when you were in London. I want that for you. You need to look after yourself. No more giving things up to be with me.”

“You’re worth it though,” Even sulks.

“Thank you for thinking that, babe, but that’s not the point. I mean I’m with you regardless. As long as you’ll have me. London or Oslo or wherever the fuck you choose to go, I’m with you. Don’t make decisions based on me. Or us. Do what’s good for you.”

Even pulls Isak towards him so he is straddling him again and hugs him tight, relaxing into Isak’s warmth and weight. He’s glad to hear that it isn’t a deal breaker. That locations don’t quite matter anymore. Because deep down, he knows that Rahima is right. London’s good for his head, it keeps him clear from other worries like bothering his parents, or bumping into people who knew him as the kid who tried to kill himself, or the kid who walked around naked and got arrested, or the kid who painted his whole house yellow and yelled at the cops until he was taken in again, or the million other crazy shits that his unmedicated self had done before he learnt his control and balance. He missed his friends and family here, sure. But he needs to graduate for more reasons than one. It’s not just about reaching his potentials or making his dream come true. It’s a statement, it’s self-respect. It’s knowing he is not broken beyond repair, he can have a normal life all by himself. That there is hope for recovery, hope for a good life, despite of all his past failings.

“I feel like I’ve loved you forever, you know?” he whispers against Isak’s neck.

He means to say that he never stopped. Not in the past years. He means to say that he has had practice, he knows how to love him better now. He means to say that when he looks far into his life, decades ahead, he knows nothing else for sure except that he will feel the same way about Isak even then. He will go mad with fondness at Isak's wrinkles, his lightening hair, his scruff when he forgets to shave for a few days. That his life will make sense even in the depths of despair if he still got to hold Isak's hand through it. That nothing gives him hope than hearing Isak tell him that he loves him too. He thinks he gets what Isak means when he says words are silly. How do you contain this ever-expanding, soul-shaping tenderness into words?

“I hope you’re not getting tired then,” Isak answers jokingly.

“Tired of you? Never,” he kisses behind Isak’s ear, making the younger boy squirm.

Isak shifts until he can comfortably kiss Even again and Even flips them over on the bed, with Isak on his back and Even hovering above him.

As he drags Even down for another kiss, he whispers, “I love you too.”

And the whole world starts all over again for Even. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write another chapter or so but I'm suddenly thinking if this is a good place to stop. I don't know how to let go. Hahaha. Tell me what you think. Does this suffice for an ending?


	21. the epilogue we deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me this long. I hope we all got the happy ending we wanted.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7egYKkIKqDs  
> Here's a song for the chapter.

“Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you.   
I didn't fall in love, I rose in it.  
I saw you and made up my mind.”   
― Toni Morrison

Even sits on his bed in his shared apartment one last time, playing with the ring he’s wearing on a chain around his neck. This is it. He has graduated, he has bid his friends farewell, the suitcases are packed, it’s time to leave.

The past year and a half has been wild, filled with ups and downs. Long distance relationship has been easy by no means. There were days when Isak didn’t pick up his Skype calls because they had stupid arguments that Even cannot, for the life of him, remember. But he remembers how desperate he felt, knowing there were no other ways of reaching Isak, no ways of comforting each other.

It wasn’t easy that Isak had problems verbalising his feelings. But he had gotten better over the years, not having any other choice but to talk. He could no longer get away with giving gifts or physical reassurances that he loves Even. Isak has begun to speak up more often as he reached the end of his tether.  

> “Why though?” Even asked one day as they Skyped while lounging in separate couches, pretending they were in the same room.
> 
> “Hmmm?”
> 
> “Why is it difficult for you to tell me how you feel?”
> 
> “It’s just words. What good can words do?”
> 
> Even remained silent, dumbfounded.
> 
> Isak sighed deeply and continued, “I told you how my dad left my mum, right?”
> 
> “Right…”
> 
> “It was like… a completely fine day. More so than other days, really. My mum was _actually_ okay that day. She wasn’t losing her mind. She was-- she was nice. She made breakfast in the morning, she was humming to herself even. It was a good day.”
> 
> Even merely nods to indicate that he was still listening.
> 
> “She said good morning, she kissed him on his cheek. She was even like, want to go out for lunch today? And he announced… he’s leaving. Just like that. All those years he held on, through all her temper tantrums, all the medical appointments… just through all of it, right? And then on a good day, when she was finally taking her meds and feeling alright again, he just… he left.”
> 
> “I’m so sorry, babe,” Even answered softly.
> 
> He didn’t know what that would feel like. He knew heartbreak, sure. But this was a different sort. His parents loved each other, stayed with each other through thick and thin. It made him worry a little. Anyone can give up at any point of time, regardless.
> 
> “It’s just… she screamed and cried, held on to him. She wouldn’t stop… she repeated over and over again that she loved him, right? That she’s better now. That she’ll be good. It didn’t matter, he still left. And then a week later, he came over to grab more of his stuff, mum was in bed all week… He asked me to be quiet, to not tell her he was home. I was angry, obviously. I asked him why he’d leave her even after she said she loved him. He told me, she says it all the time. It doesn’t mean anything. And then… and then I told him… I just--I’ve never quite told him before, I mean I did as a child, but not after that. So, I told him… that I loved him? That I needed him more than anything. It didn’t stop him from leaving… I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s just--love… if you say it too many times, it means nothing. But even if you don’t say it all that much, it still… it’s just words. It’s not _loving,_ get it?”
> 
> “But it is, though,” Even replied quietly, not to rub him the wrong way. “To me, it is. When you say what you mean, it’s a doing too. It’s not merely words. You did love him.”
> 
> “It just wasn’t enough.”
> 
> “No, Isak. It was a choice he made. He didn't like his life. All we can do is love people. That, by itself, is enough. This isn’t on you.”
> 
> Isak sighed again, ran his free hand through his hair.
> 
> “I know. I’m trying to be better now.”
> 
> “We both are,” Even says with a smile.
> 
> “But you know I love you right?” Isak asks.
> 
> “I love you too, babe.”

Then, there were the nights when he missed Isak so much, he laid awake, chanting random words in his mind to try and tire himself out to sleep. There were the late evening calls, after both of them were done for the day. They’d eat dinner together in front of their laptops, calling it a date. Some evenings were bittersweet, because he’d see Isak smile all through the night and right when he’s about to hang up, Isak would sigh deeply, his face crumpling as he quietly confesses how hard this is, how much he misses Even, how he feels like the separation kept stretching ahead of them without an end. Those nights, they both go to sleep with the call still connected, hoping they’d be able to wake up to each other.

And then, there were the small Skype parties that they had. Isak, Mahdi, Magnus, Jonas… Yes, Jonas. After Isak had taken the time to explain all the craziness to Jonas, Even had received a text message, asking if they could talk. Jonas called him on his phone, and they talked albeit awkwardly at first. But Jonas warmed up to him again.

> “You get why I was mad, don’t you? I mean, Isak was just… he was a real mess when you left him and I--”
> 
> Even interrupted, “You’re his best friend. His family.”
> 
> “Yeah. I couldn’t deal with it. It was just so fucking awful.”
> 
> “I know,” Even answered softly.
> 
> “I’m sorry, man. You’ve been through a lot yourself and I didn’t make it easy.”
> 
> “You didn’t know. It’s fine.”
> 
> “I should have confronted you. I tried to… But your mum said you left to London and that was a real low blow for all of us. We didn’t know at the time…”
> 
> “It’s okay, Jonas. I’m glad you were there for Isak,” Even said reassuringly.
> 
> “I just wish we were there for you too. You deserved that,” Jonas replied quietly, his voice earnest and solemn.
> 
> Even was startled into silence for a beat or two. He didn’t expect that from Jonas.
> 
> “You’re here now… so…” Even said hoarsely.
> 
> “Yeah. Yeah, I am, bro.”
> 
>  

It was a great relief, having spoken to Jonas again. Slowly, over the year, Even opened up more. First to Yousef, then Mikael, then Sana and Elias and everyone else. He could finally breathe again; the concealed hostility, the strange exile he felt… it had thawed away over the year. Easily enough, Rahima and Sana became friends through Even’s skype calls. And Elias too. Now _, that_ was a pleasant surprise to Even. He always imagined Rahima and Elias as opposites, never once did he think that they would become friends. He knew Elias has developed a crush of sorts on Rahima when he started Skyping more frequently with Even, always “casually” asking if Rahima dropped by. They’re even friends on Facebook and they chat often enough. But he never gathered the guts to ask Rahima what she thought of Elias. He figured she wouldn’t approve of him prying into her business. She is a private person, in that sense. But he thinks she sort of likes Elias back too.

Throughout the course of his relationship, Isak has been to London twice. Once for winter holidays and once for his graduation. Isak had finals to sit for and was only able to stay for two days for Even’s graduation before catching a flight back home. But Isak was so proud of Even; Even’s mum told him that Isak cried a little when Even walked up the stage to receive his scroll. Even thinks that’s adorable, even if Isak denies it with all his might.

He’s now ready to leave. Despite being drenched in poignant nostalgia for the city where he found himself, he is excited to return home. Because now home is a different place than what it was 3 years back. Home is where Isak is, where his friends and family are.  More than that, he’s eager to find out what Isak’s gesture meant. He left behind _the ring_ on Even’s bedside table when he took a flight home after graduation. The wedding ring with its many gears. Even didn’t notice it until he was ready to go to bed that night and wanted to place his phone on the table.

When Even was about to return to London a year and a half ago, he asked Isak if he could perhaps have the wedding ring that Isak had gotten him. Not as a promise of a wedding or anything. He knows better than to be demanding about that. But as an emblem, something he can hold on to when he misses Isak. The younger boy had looked at him uncertainly for a long while before he went into his room, brought out a red scarf, and wrapped it around Even’s neck.

“Keep this instead. At least you’ll be warm,” Isak said, without rejecting his request directly.

Even knew better than to push it. So, he never mentioned it again. But this time, Isak had intentionally brought the ring with him and left it on the table for him, two weeks before his final departure from London. He didn’t quite know what that meant and he was afraid to hope. So, he wore it on a chain around his neck and didn’t ask Isak about it. Now, he sits, fiddling with the gears, feeling oddly elated and anxious at the same time.

*****

Even falls back on Isak’s bed, stripped down to his boxers, tired after the flight and the “welcome home” party that Elias and the boys threw for him.  Isak finishes brushing his teeth and climbs into bed with him. The older boy kisses him again, as though they hadn’t done enough of that publicly in front of their friends all day, to which Muta and Mahdi screamed “GET A ROOM” loudly enough to alert his father who was cooking in the kitchen… It should be embarrassing but Even did not have it in him to care. He smiles, thinking about that, as Isak groans and kisses the corner of his mouth instead.

“I can’t do this if you’re grinning,” Isak mumbles petulantly.

“Too bad, I can’t stop,” he giggles.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Isak asks as he playfully rubs his nose against Even’s.

“Nope, too busy noticing how pretty _you_ are.”

“Stop, cheeseball,” Isak says as he lightly pinches the skin under Even’s ribs.

Even lets out an abrupt laughter at that and answers, “I’m so happy today.”

“Yeah?” Isak asks, both forearms resting against Even’s shoulder as he kisses the side of Even’s face.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Me too.”

Isak kisses his way down Even’s neck and stops at his collarbone, fingers twirling around the ring.

“I thought… “

“You thought?” Even asks as he looks down at it too.

“I didn’t see you wearing it on your finger… earlier? I thought you probably didn’t want it anymore.”

“You thought wrong,” Even says softly, flipping their positions so he is hovering over Isak, the ring hanging off his neck and resting on Isak’s chest.

They kiss lazily for a while longer before he feels Isak’s hand playing with the ring again.

“Why don’t you wear it on your finger? It doesn’t fit?” Isak asks, feigning indifference.

“It fits. I didn’t know if you’d want that is all.”

“I’d want that,” Isak answers quickly, glancing up at Even’s face before looking down again.

“You know what it would mean, right? If I wore it on my finger?”

Isak nods, still playing with the gears on the ring.

Even asks again for affirmation, “It would mean we are engaged?”

Isak nods again, just once.

Even’s heart brims with tenderness for this boy, this man, Even’s. They’ve grown up, together. They were with each other in one sense or another even when they were apart.

He holds Isak’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, forces his gaze up.

“Isak Valtersen, are you asking to marry me?” he says giddily.

Isak lightly punches Even’s shoulder and says, “Take a hint, man.”

Even laughs and lays his full body weight playfully on Isak, head resting next to Isak’s.

Isak hugs him, runs his hands across Even’s back before he whispers, “Even Bech Næsheim, you’re the gears in my mind. You’re all I think about at every waking moment… the man of my life.”

Even pushes back with his forearms resting on both sides of Isak’s head until he could look Isak in the eyes.

 Isak huffs with a small laugher, voice rough with emotions yet light-hearted at the same time, “Will you please fucking marry me already? Jeeesus…”

Even laughs and laughs as he leans over to kiss Isak all over his face, “I’m not Jesus. But yes, I fucking will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say goodbye to me. :P


End file.
